


Tea Time

by JAMoczo



Series: Twilight [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1245589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JAMoczo/pseuds/JAMoczo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale Swan moves with her father to the little cloudy town of Lower Tadfield. There she meets Anthony, who she thinks is just a stalker with a car fetish, but proves to be so much more... Yes, you already know what this is a parody of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

My father and I drove onto the main street of a rather small town around noon. It was cloudy out, but with having driven in from London that was hardly a deterrent to my mood. My father was doing his best to remain optimistic, the poor dear, which made sense considering he’d lived with his brothers since they were born and he was finally embarking on his own. “Aziraphale dear,” he murmured after we’d stopped at a red light, “I do hope you’re not upset? Please don’t be, I couldn’t bear it if you were.”

 

I chuckled a little. He’d been asking me that question since we’d left London. “Yes, I’m fine, I assure you. Lower Tadfield can’t be that terrible, I’m sure, and regardless, it was only a matter of time before Uncle Uriel accidentally killed one of us.”

 

He laughed a little at the good-natured jab towards his younger brother. “The house we’re getting is nice,” he said, still smiling even as he steered the topic away from my uncles, “but it’s not as big as the one we had. I hope you don’t mind. I really don’t.” He babbles when he's anxious, so I reached out and squeezed his hand, hoping to assuage his nerves at least a little. Normally he's not quite so fluttery, but I suppose we all get like that occasionally.

 

“There’s only the two of us now, so we don’t need a large house. Don’t worry about me, please. As long as there’s room for my books, then I’m fine.” I knew he felt guilty that he’d bought the house without even asking for my input, but he’d been in a hurry at the time and it was hard to hold anything against him. He was just so _sweet_. He was also a bit of a doormat, but defending him was part of my job.

 

He coloured tellingly. “There is room for your books,” he admitted, “but, ah… do you mind sleeping on the couch?”

 

* * *

 

The house was on the outskirts of Lower Tadfield, a decent size and on a large lot with far-away neighbours. Despite his worries about us fitting in it, it did have a den which held about a third of my collection – rare Bibles, primarily, but I did dabble in some 17th century literature, although not being able to grow money on trees made acquisition difficult – and the rest got piled into my bedroom as orderly as I could manage. He tried to help me, bless his heart, and while he had plenty of experience with Bibles, I have my ways of organisation and he has his and they don’t always mesh well.

 

As I put them away, though, it occurred to me how little I knew about my own father. He’d actually been a priest before I came along, although he refused to tell me if I was biologically his, or if he’d adopted me, and he never mentioned a female partner that could have theoretically conceived me.   I didn’t even know what religion my father had practiced in; he was insistent to raise me as free from organized religion as possible, although obviously I’d adopted a Christian leaning if only because it’s hard to read as many Bibles as I have without one. I’d heard him refer to himself as a priest, yes, but that meant very little considering how many religions have priests. I supposed it made sense, though, considering how my father was rather quiet compared to his three brothers, especially his eldest, and he and I didn’t get to bond terribly much.

 

It gave me a bit more excitement to be here, honestly. Yes, we’d moved rather quickly from a large city to what could almost be called a village, and I was going to have to start at a brand new school where theoretically everyone knew each other and thus I would be either gawked at or isolated and ignored, but I was going to get to know my father better. This could be an adventure, if I could look at it like that!

 

Little did I know that it was going to be an adventure whether I wanted it to be or not.

 

* * *

 

 

Lower Tadfield High had one hundred students attending, ages five to seventeen. As both the primary and secondary school with training for A-levels and pre-University, it was fairly large, but the fact that it was the only school in the area made it _seem_ rather small, as I knew that back in London such a class size would have been _just_ primary school, or secondary, etcetera. I, being sixteen, was enrolled in Year 12, to prepare for my A-levels.

 

I think. I’d actually been home-schooled back in London – my uncle Gabriel was a professor at UCL – and the whole education system was a bit baffling to me. I decided to cross my fingers and hope for the best.

 

My father had lent me his 1940 Austin as my mode of transportation to and from the school, which I considered a great honour. He never told me where he got it – I made a mental note to ask him – but he treasured it, and it was the only car I’d ever seen him drive. That I got to use it meant he trusted me to not destroy it, and I was determined to not break that trust. So I drove to school going exactly the speed limit, parked away from the other vehicles, and hoped that it would be all right in the parking lot.

 

The main office of Lower Tadfield High was terribly kitschy – the door to the principal’s office was actually _strings of beads_ , which I didn’t think existed outside of 1960s America – while every surface in the front office had either photos of women in nun habits or finger paintings from children. I nearly went blind. “Hello dear, how can I help you? Oh wait, I know, you simply _must_ be the new girl, Aziraphale Swan, and oh it is so nice to meet you! Your father is doing such a wonderful thing for us, you know, finally giving our hospital a full-time surgeon!” The woman behind the desk – friendly and obviously rather chatty – was beaming at me as she stood up. “I mean, I’m a nurse as well, I worked in the hospital for a long time, and I can tell you that it’s just so _cumbersome_ to have to send people all the way to London for something that it would be just so nice to fix _here_ , you know?”

 

“Yes,” I said, although I didn’t, not really.

 

“Oh, bless me for being an idiot, where are my manners?” She held out one gloved hand, which I shook. No sense in being terrified just yet, surely this woman was the craziest that this town had to offer. “I’m Si – Ms Hodges; I almost said Sister, although I haven’t been a Sister in decades! I’m now the secretary here at the school in the morning and the nurse in the afternoons, so if you have any questions, you’ll come to ask me. Regardless, dear, here’s your schedule – you’ll find that the rooms are clearly marked, so you oughtn’t to have any trouble getting around. There’s also a list of faculty members, even the ones you don’t have. Have a wonderful first day of school, and try not to get eschewed!”

 

I ran, clutching the piece of paper. I admit it, I was a coward, but Ms Hodges’ lack of _shutting up_ freaked me out.

 

I took a better look at my schedule: Literature, Maths, Biology, Citizenship, lunch, Communications, physical education, and Latin. I sighed in relief; quite a few of my Bibles were in Latin, and my grasp of the language was likely beyond anything the school taught. Literature would be easy too, maths less so. My uncle Gabriel may be a history professor, but he loves literature almost as much as my father does. Uncle Uriel was surprisingly good at maths, but he also hadn’t been the one teaching me anything. I had no idea what Citizenship and Communications were really all about. Physical education, er, was not going to be so pleasant. But I’d live.

 

I sighed and walked to my first class, ignoring all the stares of the people now bustling about the hallways. Even the little ones recognized me as the outsider I was, which made me feel even more anxious than I had before. Charming, really. I avoided looking at them by glancing over the faculty list – principal Madame Tracey Potts-Shadwell was apparently the wife, or a relative, of Sergeant Shadwell (or, actually, no other name was given, so was Shadwell his first name or his surname? Was Sergeant a title or his first name? Peculiar), who taught physical education. Mr Tyler taught Citizenship, Ms Device taught Literature, Mr Pulsifer taught Communications, Mr Hastur taught maths, Mr Ligur taught biology, and Ms Nutter taught Latin.

 

Ms Device was, thankfully, markedly more sane-appearing than Ms Hodges had been, which prompted me to give a sigh of relief. Since I was right on time, she introduced me to the class and bade me sit next to Adam. Adam thankfully waved his hand so I knew who he was. He was sitting at the end of the row, an empty seat to his right and a young woman with bright red hair and freckles to his left. Next to her was a nice-looking brunette boy who clearly needed a bath, and beside him was another nice-looking nerdy-appearing blond boy.

 

I leave Adam for last because he was by far the most striking. His hair was fair and curled, much like my uncle Michael’s except even lighter, and his eyes were clear and large, skin perfect; he was utterly the most gorgeous man – boy, he was my age, not a man yet - I’d ever seen. I, blushing profusely, sat next to him. Oh goodness, I’d never acted this way around boys before! But there was something about him that made me want to fling myself at him.

 

It also turned out that Adam was incredibly friendly.   He introduced me to his friends – Pepper, Brian and Wensleydale – and he didn’t stop talking from there, even during class, which was all right with me because we were reading _Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man_ and I hate James Joyce with a passion. By the end of the class, I knew who everyone in our grade was, a bit of gossip about their pastimes, and that I had a new group of friends.

 

All in all, my first day of school was excellent.

 

Discord showed up in the form of a rather handsome young man with an attitude problem and an automotive fetish. We met in a gas station, actually. I was filling up my father’s Austin -

 

“1940. An actual 1940.”

 

I startled, nearly dropping the gas nozzle, and looked at the one who had spoken. He was wearing sunglasses during this cloudy midday, but he was most assuredly staring at the car. His own car, an older black model ( _what is with this boy and black?   He’s head-to-toe in black and even his car…_ ) was parked improperly, as if he’d hastily done so. He was prowling around my father's Austin, eyebrows furrowed.

 

“You’re being awfully rude,” I informed him flatly, not amused and feeling slightly violated.

 

“How’d you keep her so healthy?” the boy asked, not looking up at me. “She’s a bit worn out but most of her peers have been scrapped by now.”

 

This was by far the oddest conversation I’d had in a long time… or at least barring the one with Ms Hodges this morning. “The car was a gift to my father. He’s always very meticulous with everything he does.” I had to add: “But the car is an Austin, so he’s a male.”

 

Finally we made eye contact – or, at least I think we did, given that he was wearing those tinted glasses. “How much do you want for her?”

 

“ _He_ is not for sale.”

 

His scowl deepened. “You don’t understand. I collect these kinds of cars. She’d be in good hands. Name your price.”

 

“He is not for sale,” I repeated, trying to remember any and all self-defence lessons I’d learned over the years.

 

We stared at each other for a good couple of seconds before he hastily sauntered back to his own car and sped off. I watched him drive off, wondering about how twisted his knickers were, but didn’t think much more of it.

 

That is, until the next morning when I woke up to a bouquet of (rather terrified) roses on my doorstep with a business card from Anthony J. Crowley, once again requesting the purchase of my car. I threw the roses into the garbage and went to school.

 

The next morning there was a large box of chocolates and another request. I ate the chocolates and threw the request in the garbage.

 

The third morning there was another box of chocolates, some gourmet teas, and another request. I took the tea, ate the chocolates, and threw out the request.

 

The fourth morning there was nothing. Relieved, I drove to school slowly, hoping that Anthony had gotten the hint. When he walked into my Literature class with a smirk on his face, and the teacher introduced him as the newest student, I realized that he really, really hadn’t.

 

Great. I had a stalker.

 

"Oh this is complete bollocks," I informed him, irritated. "You have your own business card, and you were clearly not in school beforehand. You're not a teenager. What are you doing here?"

 

He was still wearing those bloody sunglasses, and I vaguely wondered if he had some sort of eye impairment. He smirked, and I could feel the blood boiling in me. "Whatever are you talking about? I transferred here just this week. I'm sixteen years old."

 

Adam leaned over from the other side of me, and I was too irritated at Anthony to even blush. "Hey, another new person, huh? We don't get a lot of new people here. For a while I thought it was kind of cool but now I think that I like the place small, so don't keep bringing people here with you!" He grinned. "But you can stay. I'm Adam, by the way, Adam Young."

 

Anthony merely nodded to him. "Crowley."

 

"Ooooo he's too cool for his first name," Pepper drawled. I honestly liked her, even if she was a bit high energy for my tastes. I believe in equality, yes, but I also don't assume everyone is talking down to me. At least I'd like to think I don't. But maybe that makes me not a feminist? It's all quite complicated, and for obvious reasons we didn’t really discuss feminism in my house. Still, Pepper was nice to me even if she did encourage me to be more assertive.

 

Wensleydale, whose actual name is apparently Jeremy, merely huffed. Although I don't know if Wensleydale is even any part of his name, let alone his last one. It shall remain a mystery, methinks.

 

At that point Ms Device chided us for chatting, and I stopped talking but continued seething. Just what was going on here? Was this Anthony Crowley completely insane? How did he manage to get enrolled in a school when he was fairly obviously older than us? And why even bother, when he knew where I lived and - wait, that was a good point, how did he know where I lived? Should I inform the police - was he dangerous?   My father was incredibly trusting and I did not want him hurt because some psychotic boy wanted an old car.

 

I didn't pay attention to the rest of class as I was pondering what to do. I ultimately decided that I would discuss the issue with my father - maybe he knew the Crowley family and could better pinpoint exactly what, if anything, this man was capable of. I would _not_ irritate Anthony, just in case he was dangerous. I would not, I would not, I would not…

 

"So, did you know that the full-gathered skirt went out of fashion fifty years ago?" he asked after class, smirking.

 

I kicked him in the kneecap and walked out.

 

* * *

 

 

Lunch time turned into a gossip session, which was the case for most lunch times, but more so today.   Adam, Pepper, Wensley, Brian and I ate lunches together - honestly, I don't know what I would have done without the four of them! - and Brian and Adam were two boys big into conspiracy theories. The prior day the two of them had continued on, despite multiple attempts to change the topic, about the idea that Ms Device might be a witch. Today they were much more interested in the presence of Anthony.

 

"A mysterious transfer student?   He's probably a mutant," said Adam brightly. "Usually they are."

 

"Or a robot," Brian agreed. "But the sunglasses make me think he might be a Cyclops."

 

Adam scoffed at that. "If he were a Cyclops his glasses would have only one lens," he said, and I didn't have the heart to point out how counterproductive that would be. "Robot's more likely. Or an Esper, or a time-traveller." He looked at me. _“Haruhi?_ ”

 

"Bless you," I said.

 

He turned back to the others. "It'd be like that. I'm Haruhi, obviously."

 

It was Brian's turn to scoff. "Are not. I'm the one who said this bloke wasn't human. You're Mikuru."

 

"Pepper's clearly Mikuru just like Wensley's obviously Itsuki…"

 

And they continued on in this vein for about half of lunch, until finally they agreed that Adam was Haruhi and Brian was Kyon. I ended up being Mikuru because my breasts are larger than Pepper's. And if you understood any of that, I'm not sure if I envy you or pity you.

 

Thus the topic returned to the new boy. Wensleydale was most concerned with Anthony's sunglasses being allowed during the school day despite being rejected by the dress code. Pepper thought he was sexy but too cocky for her tastes.

 

I asked if they thought he was dangerous, and they all thought I was joking. That did make me feel better about the entire situation.

 

* * *

 

 

That night I woke up to use the loo and happened to glance out my window. Prowling around my poor auto was a lithe man in black, wearing sunglasses. Scowling, I grabbed the closest blunt object to me – a Bible – and marched outside, yes in my pyjamas.

 

“You poor thing,” he was cooing, “you don’t know what you’re misssssing. Your petrol is subpar, your bumper is sssscratched and you have a chip in your windshield! You don’t _really_ want to stay here, do you? I’ll take good care of you-”

 

He didn’t notice me approaching, and I didn’t take the time to announce my presence before slamming that book into the back of his head. Now, I am by no stretch of the imagination very strong. That being said, he went down like a sack of bricks, ironically denting the door. I was about to point this out to his unconscious form when I noticed that the back of his head was bleeding and _sizzling_.

 

“Oh dear.” 


	2. Chapter 2

I had thought this Anthony J. Crowley was odd, but I hadn’t ever considered that he might not be human. Incredibly stubborn, yes, rather attractive, certainly, but nonhuman? Never. But no human would start steaming from a Bible blow, which meant he was something evil…

 

I glanced around, feeling my heart start beating faster. No witnesses; no neighbours in sight, and my father was asleep. I couldn’t just leave him here, lest he woke up and decided to get his revenge. I needed to bind him somehow and question him, try to figure out who or _what_ he was and what he was capable of. Oh dear God, what was I going to do if he wasn't human? Surely I was imagining things, there was no way he wasn't human, I mean...

 

So to the end of figuring this all out, I dragged him inside, up the stairs to my bedroom, and - for lack of anything else to do - used his tie to bind his wrists to my headboard before carefully placing a Bible on top of the fabric. I didn't want to burn his hands off - at least not yet - but I had to make sure he couldn't get up. I also had to plan out what to do, or say.

 

On a whim I took off his sunglasses. Perfectly normal eyes underneath there.

 

He woke up very quickly, although not fast enough to prevent any bloodstains on my pillow. "What did you -”

 

"Don't move or that Bible will likely fall on your head and kill you," I replied, trying to sound as authoritative as possible.   That façade fell when I noticed his _open_ eyes.

 

They were golden, which wasn't the oddest part. His pupils were vertical slits.

 

"What are you?" I asked, caught off guard. I had known on some level that he wasn't human, as mentioned before, but here it was - my second piece of evidence. A sizzling head wound caused by a holy text could be written off as a fluke, perhaps the weather being colder than usual, but that and snake eyes? Well, at least it clinched it. This man wasn't human. _Oh dear God._

 

Speaking of the eyes, he then rolled them. "You haven't figured it out yet?"

 

I scowled right back at him, recovering my spine. "You're either a demon or a vampire."

 

He considered it. "A demon. That's way better than a vampire."

 

"You filthy liar! You can't just change what you are! So you're a vampire." I considered what I wanted to know from him. "How many of you are there?"

 

"I'm one of a kind," he purred.

 

I face-palmed, I admit it. "Oh, honestly. You are incorrigible."

 

He sighed dramatically. "I'm the youngest of an eight-member coven, although we're the only vampires in the greater London area. But before you demand the right to interrogate them, they're _far_ meaner than I am."

 

I pulled out a worn notebook and moved to a blank page. "Names?" Best be logical about this, no matter if the idea that vampires existed was completely illogical.

 

"What if I don't feel like answering ssssome human?" His eyes glowed red for a flash and he showed off sharpened canines.

 

I wasn’t impressed. "You're a vampire stalker. If I just happen to push that Bible over onto your face, no one will miss you. Least of all me."

 

We had a terse stare-off before he finally muttered, "You have a disturbing amount of Bibles. It would figure you're bloody insane… How many questions are you planning to ask me?"

 

"Until I'm satisfied. Now quit the backtalk."

 

"Satan, Beelzebub, Belial, Asmodeus, Adramelech, Hastur, Ligur, and me."

 

I wrote that down and stared at the list, organising my thoughts. "So your coven took the names of a group of powerful classical demons, or at least names that sound vaguely evil, and you're… Anthony. Who is, by the way, a saint."

 

"Hey, _I'm_ just trying to blend in with humans. Also, changing my name? Cliché. They're all trying too hard, if you ask me."

 

"Says the one always in designer suits whilst _stalking_ me over a _car_." As he launched into a diatribe about how my car was being abused, I interrupted curtly with, "So are all of you Crowleys, then?'

 

He vehemently shook his head, almost dislodging the Bible on his wrists. "No, just me."

 

I considered that. He hadn't chosen a name in theme with his "family," he considered his coven to be trying too hard, and his surname wasn't the same. All of this pointed to the idea that he didn't like them terribly much. For me that was a sombre thought; he lived with people he hated, yet were the only ones of his kind around.

 

I might have pitied him if he wasn't _bloody stalking me._

 

"So," I ran my fingers over the graphite on the paper, "are Hastur and Ligur…?"

 

"Yes, they're teachers at school. Maths and biology, isn't that right? I skip those classes."

 

"I had been considering it even before I learned they were bloodsucking undead."

 

His frown returned in full force. "Excuse me, bloodsucking undead here. Your tone could use some work."

 

"You know, even if you did puncture the neck you wouldn't get much blood from there unless you gouged holes in the jugular, so how-"

 

There was a soft knock on my door and then my father opened it, peering in. It took me a few seconds to fully comprehend what he was seeing - me in my pyjamas with a young man strapped to my bed and a Bible on his wrists.

 

"Don't you think involving the Bibles is a little too kinky, darling?" Anthony purred.

 

I'm not entirely sure what happened next, considering I felt like I was going to die of sheer embarrassment. Somehow Anthony left and I ended up getting a two-hour-long lecture about boys and what it is they really want from relationships and how I oughtn't use a tie to bind the wrists unless it's made of silk and _it was entirely of things I never wanted to know ever._

 

I wasn't sure what was worse - the fact that I got a lecture about sex based on a misunderstanding, or that if I wanted my father to still love and trust me I would likely have to pretend to be dating Anthony J. Crowley, stalker vampire.

 

I take that back. Dating Anthony would definitely be worse.

 

* * *

 

 

Pepper ended up carrying me to the nurse to call the ambulance because I had a crossbow bolt stuck in my foot. Yes, you read that right.

 

I had been wary of physical education, mostly because my uncle Michael was very physically active and insisted I be so with him, leading to a lot of clumsiness-induced injuries on my part. I am capable of powerwalking for "long" distances and I'm fairly competent at volleyball, but that's about it. I'm completely worthless at football, as multiple pairs of broken glasses will attest to, and I hate most other sports (American baseball and football are so dull, and cricket is just… bad). So yes, I was worried about physical education. However, Sergeant Shadwell was not a typical instructor. He fancied himself a witch hunter and saw it as his duty to train the students to follow in his footsteps. In about five minutes he'd handed me a crossbow, I'd disinfected it because the little man was disgusting, I took a shot at a target and missed, and then accidentally discharged a bolt into my foot.

 

And here we are.

 

"On the plus side," Pepper said, clearly amused at my agony, "you've made your mark on the school already! The blood trail really adds a certain somethin'."

 

"Don't remind me!" I wailed, because bloody hell it hurt, "As long as I don't look at it, think about it or breathe about it, it almost doesn't hurt!"

 

"Greasy Johnson once sat on me, so I totally get how you feel. I had to wear a cast for a week and a half, and that's harder than it sounds when you have to scrub yourself down to make sure you're clean!"

 

"I don't know who that is!" I whined. Maybe I don't sound particularly strong or heroic, but I had a _crossbow bolt in my foot_ and I think I deserve a little sympathy.

 

Pepper explained to me about how she and Adam, Brian and Wensleydale were once a gang and Greasy Johnson was a rival gang leader, and how they used to fight, although nowadays they didn't fight anymore. "It kinda lost its point after a while, although I still like a good rustle now and then," she continued. "And plus, it lets me keep bein' friends with the boys. Don't tell them this, but I do love shopping an’ dancing an’ things, and if they ever found out they'd never let me hear the end of it and I would have to hurt them."

 

I sniffled even as Pepper set me down in a chair in the nurse's office. "Oh. I never really got to go shopping much. I lived with my father and uncles."

 

"I can tell," she said darkly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

 

"We should go sometime! Us girls gotta stick together. I'll get you fixed up."

 

Before I could protest that I wasn't broken, Ms Hodges came out from a back room, gasping and fainting as she saw my foot.

 

"Riiiiight," Pepper muttered. "I'll find a phone."

 

As she left I propped up my foot on the chair next to mine. At this point I'd gone completely numb, so it wasn't so bad. I wasn't looking forward to getting to the hospital, but -

 

"Sergeant again?"

 

I started in surprise. Anthony was somehow sitting in the chair under my foot. "Bloody hell how did you - never mind, why do I ask?" He smirked, examining the appendage now on his lap. "By the way, my father now thinks we're dating and sexually active, so don't expect a warm welcome the next time you trespass on my property."

 

He snickered. "As if you could pick me up."

 

I rolled my eyes in frustration. "You're completely insane and if you have a point in being here, then make it clear."

 

He shrugged. "I see a trail of blood and I'm compelled to follow it." I couldn't see his eyes and yet I knew he winked at me.

 

I felt cold at the reminder. Was he going to lose control and eat me right here? Pepper was in the back room, and the look on his face was not comforting… I didn't have to worry about him too much as Pepper came back in. "Okay, ambulance on the way. Let's get you to the front. Geez the staff is useless in this school." Then she looked at Anthony. "What're you doing here?"

 

"Why, I'm doting on my beloved girlfriend," he purred, rubbing my leg.

 

Oh, I was going to kill him.

 

"Okay… You carry her, I'll go get her stuff." Pepper shook her head in disgust as she left, likely to go find my books.

 

I waited until she left before I glared at Anthony. "My _father_! My _father_ thinks that, not the school, you wanker!"

 

"Eh, consider yourself lucky you got someone as hot as me." He moved my leg, stood up and picked me up, carrying me to the front of the building. I did not like this, not one little bit.

 

"Great. Excellent. I'm now suddenly the - the - what’s it called when you tie someone up in sex?"

 

"That would make you my dom; I'm your sub."

 

"Dom to a stalker vampire who only hangs around with me because he's waiting to steal my car," I moaned with disbelief and a measure of doom. "I wish we'd stayed in London."

 

"You think you have it bad? I'm now 'dating' a girl who's about a hundred years younger than I am, looks like nerdy Taylor Swift in 'You Belong with Me' and owns more Bibles than the entire bloody Church."

 

I didn't get his bebop reference, so I mostly ignored it; considering the reference to being nerdy, I subconsciously adjusted my thick-rimmed glasses. I thought they were fetching. "We could just break up."

 

"Oh no, you won't get rid of me that easily. You and I will be a happily-dating saccharine-sweet couple until you either sign that car over to me, I manage to steal it, or I stop being patient and just eat you."

 

I huffed, not really sure how to react to that. "Well, you might as well sweeten the deal." He plopped me down on a cement bench outside the school, sitting next to me. "What can you do? What're your special powers? Are you like _Dracula_ , or like a Black Court vampire from the _Dresden Files_ which are, I admit, very similar, but you've got some similarities if you're affected by religious icons."

 

"Nerd." I sighed at his non-answer, and he continued, "Kind of like Dracula, I guess. I don't know, I tend to avoid that kind of thing. It's like a human reading about how unique and special humans are. It's kind of boring at some point. I'm stronger than a human, I have limited control over some animals-"

 

"Some?"

 

He let out an irritated sigh, but I didn't feel too badly. "The way it works, is that whatever sort of talents we had as humans is magnified when we're turned. I don't really remember, but apparently I had an affinity for snakes, as I can control them."

 

"Considering your eyes, I ought to have figured that out."

 

He scoffed at that, subconsciously pushing his glasses further up his face. "Yes, well, I don't get that either. I also... it's hard to explain, but I can also tell what someone wants. It _usually_ makes 'convincing' them to do something easier."

 

"Temptation powers? That's oddly specific."

 

He waved that away with a hand, seemingly uninterested in explaining himself. "Anyway, the others have different skill sets. The only one that also controls an animal of some kind is Beelzebub, but he's got insects."

 

"Hence his name, a reference to the demonic Lord of the Flies."

 

“ _Nerd.”_

 

"Hush, you. So strength, animal control, what else?"

 

"Let me put it this way: if you want to kill me without one of your billion Bibles, you're going to need a flamethrower and a really good chainsaw. And the religious icons only depend on the user. If you used a Hindu symbol, nothing would happen. It's a faith thing, not so much a religious thing. There's more, but I'm not about to hand you a list of my weaknesses on a silver platter, lady." He perked up a little. "The ambulance is almost here."

 

I looked around and saw nothing but the cutesy little roads of Lower Tadfield. "Apparently you've got better hearing or vision."

"Both."

 

"Wow. So are there any drawbacks? Because it seems to me you've got a good thing going on."

 

He snorted. "If this works out well, you'll never see me in direct sunlight."

 

"Why, because you'll die?"

 

"I wish."

 

I didn't get a chance to ask about that because the ambulance pulled up and I was hustled onto it before being taken to the hospital, thankfully given some fluids to help balance my blood loss.

 

My father was the lucky one to have to remove the bolt from my foot, which he did with plenty of scolding attached. "Oh honestly, Zizi, how did this happen?" He huffed a little. "Not sex games during school, I hope."

 

I spluttered. Normal teenage girls don’t have to deal with this sort of thing, do they? _"Father, honestly!_ The school physical education teacher was teaching us to hunt witches!"

 

He stared at me.

 

"He's a loon, is my point! Goodness."

 

He shook his head. "Honestly, you're making me wish we'd stayed in London."

 

"Trust me, you're not alone in that wish."

 

* * *

 

Using crutches was inconvenient, but we all have to make sacrifices and placing my foot on the ground hurt far more than was worth it. It made me stand out even more than before, but honestly there wasn't that much of a difference.

 

Today was exciting; it was the first time I got to go to biology with Mr Ligur whilst knowing he was a vampire. I honestly was intrigued by the chance of getting to watch him with the knowledge that he wasn't human; what did he and Anthony have in common? What was different?

 

There was a lot more different.

 

"T'day we'll be dissecting," Mr Ligur drawled, and it was fairly obvious to me that his accent was fake, as if he was trying very hard to sound like Dick Van Dyke in _Mary Poppins_. "Y' all have t' do it, so no whining! We'll be dissectin' chipmunks."

 

The majority of the girls in the class began to cry. I won't implicate myself.

 

"That're alive!"

 

The majority of the students in the class began to scream as Mr Ligur placed a bin filled with live chipmunks onto the table.  

 

"Hey! That's violatin' ethics!" Adam protested gallantly. "You can't just make us kill stuff!"

 

 _He kills stuff all the time_ , I thought to myself. _Maybe he's sick of it, and that's why he's making us do it instead. Or maybe he doesn't like chipmunks but has to resort to their blood to remain inconspicuous?_

 

It didn't matter, because Mr Ligur paled and put the box of chipmunks on the floor. "Er, yeah, never mind," he muttered, accent gone for a split second. "I was just kiddin'!" he exclaimed cheerfully, prompting relieved laughter from the class. "Instead we're going to… uh… going to…"

 

As he pondered this change in schedule, I studied Adam. How peculiar this was, that a student could tell a vampire teacher what to do and have said vampire teacher listen. Was Ligur spineless, or was Adam special? Well, obviously Adam was special, with that perfect hair and those beautiful eyes and that wonderful, sweet demeanour… Er. Excuse me. But yes, what was going on here? Maybe I was reading into it; I was doing that a lot lately, I felt.

 

With the revelation that vampires existed and were blended in as well as could be expected, my world felt tilted awkwardly and I was trying my best to ignore that fact. Everything was normal, yes, even if I was being stalked by a killer. Nothing odd about that, no, not at all.

 

Oh God. I was in over my head.

 

I spent the rest of biology lost in my own thoughts as the realization that things were definitely not normal weighed heavily on my mind. What to do, what to do? Maybe I was better off giving Anthony the car and bidding him farewell, but then again, if I took out the challenge for him, would he just kill me to protect his secret? However flimsy it was, I did have leverage on him; he could just kill me and take my father's car, or just break in and steal it, but instead he insisted on trying to get it through perseverance. The challenge of my refusal was more interesting to him, at least for the time being, than his actually getting what he wanted. For whatever reason, that was likely keeping me alive.

 

Which still left me in the awkward position of knowing how long to taunt the tiger before it stops caring about the meat and eats the trainer.

 

But I did know some things already. As long as I kept my faith, I was protected by the collection of Bibles in my house. My father was, as a former priest, likely more devout than I am, and so he would be safe, although I did need to talk to him at some point soon (even if I left out the vampire bit). Vampires could walk in sunlight, but something terrible would happen that Anthony wasn't revealing but wasn't death - maiming? Torture? I would want to find that out, in case a good push into sunlight would be enough to end the threat at least long enough to get something else accomplished. Also, Adam made Mr Ligur backtrack. Was it something in particular about Adam, or was it something in Mr Ligur's character?

 

I pulled out my planner and made some notes.

 

I would talk to my father Friday night, so he would have all weekend to ponder this before going back to work again. I would ask Pepper for a girls' night out for Saturday night, because she seemed sweet and I refused to get so caught up in everything that I stopped my entire social life. Sunday afternoon I would try to contact Anthony again to get some more answers to my questions. For example, what were the others like (besides the two I'd met)? What happened in sunlight?

 

Ugh. My mind was a complete mix of emotions. I wasn't going to get anything done if I couldn't get my thoughts in order. Therefore, I was going to forget all of this and let it stew in the back of my mind.

 

* * *

 

Well, except for the Adam thing, considering I ate lunch next to him and Brian was on the same page as I was.

 

"Did you _see_ Mr Ligur?" Brian exclaimed, ignoring his food. "You were all like 'knock it off' and he was all like 'aaarrggghhhh don't kill me'!" Adam was blushing terribly, but Brian continued describing the scenario in dramatic terms. According to Brian, this entire incident apparently took place with a duel of penises. I think I'd pay good money to see that. Er, as long as the other person wasn't Mr Ligur. Now, Adam and Anthony, that would be fetching -

 

Oh God, I just thought that didn't I?

 

"Why are you hitting your head?" Wensleydale asked me quietly. I declined to answer him.

 

"I was just bein' honest," Adam defending himself hotly, clearly not amused by this conversation. "An' that's all there is to it! Now, how 'bout that weather lecture he gave us and stuff? That was cool, right? I mean lame from him, but kinda cool too…"

 

Hmm. Very suspicious, but it was clear Adam wasn't going to talk about it. I made a mental note that I would talk to him later, alone, to see if I could get him to explain what he knew.

 

* * *

 

Friday night, I brewed my father and I tea, to make him feel comfortable and to help myself calm down. I still wasn't a hundred percent sure what to tell him. Should I stick with the story that Anthony and I were dating, or should I tell him the complete truth about my stalker vampire, or should I go somewhere in between? I disliked lying to him, but the truth…

 

Well. Technically speaking he'd never given _me_ the truth on a lot of issues, had he? Who my mother was, who he was before I was born. Lies of omission were still lies… But I didn't feel justified lying to him just because he hadn't been truthful with me… And plus, I got my inability to lie effectively from him, so could I even not tell him the truth without him knowing and getting offended?

 

Ugh. This was getting circular and off-putting. I wish I didn't love my father so much. If we barely communicated and I resented him any, this would be far less difficult.

 

"This is a nice idea, Zizi," he said fondly, using his nickname for me from when I was a little thing and couldn't say my own name (much, sadly, like most people). "We really ought to do this every Friday night, wouldn't you agree? Not only because I do enjoy talking to you, but also because this way I know you're not out gallivanting and getting intoxicated." He winked.

 

I sighed fondly, because overprotective parents will be overprotective parents. "Not that I was going out anyway. I do have friends, honestly, and Pepper and I are going shopping tomorrow."

 

"Aw, how nice. That's wonderful to hear, my dear girl."

 

"But I wanted to talk to you. Ah, about this town. And rumours and things."

 

He nodded, looking concerned. "Yes, that young man of yours, I've heard he's got a very… serious home life. I'm glad you're there to help him, but try to not let him corrupt you and please remember my lessons about proper protection…"

 

I decided to ignore the rubbers lecture. "Really? What do you know of his home life? He's told me bits, but I'm curious to see what you've found out."

 

He frowned, brow creasing over his remarkably clear green eyes. "They sound like a gang to me, honestly. A conglomerate of unrelated men with inexplicable amounts of money? To make it worse, it sounds that they've given themselves demonic names, which is incredibly silly but still troubling."

 

I nodded, watching his face. "That's what I've heard too. Anthony doesn't seem fond of them, although from his wardrobe he takes advantage of their money well enough. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I don't… foresee him and me breaking up, but I also want to make sure you're safe. That's more important to me than anything else," I admitted, blushing and staring at the floor. It was true. What a daddy's girl I am!

 

"Awwww." He placed a hand on my knee. "Don't worry about that, sweetheart. If nothing else, they may be named after demons, but I'm named after an angel. And in the end, the angels win the war."

 

I wasn't terribly reassured. "That wasn't really what I was going for. I was thinking more along the lines of 'buy a gun with silver bullets or perhaps a crossbow with blessed bolts and a set of really good locks.'"

 

He laughed. "Those are for vampires and werewolves, not demons, but you do have a point. Very well, I'll be sure to be more cautious and we can make sure that security here is better, but…" He frowned, although his frowns never managed to convey anger, but rather disappointment or, like in this case, worry. "You take care of yourself too, please? You may like Anthony but his family is a bunch of hooligans. Try to stay away from them, for my sake? And if Anthony starts to make you feel nervous, please let me know. We can find out something to do about it. You know I'm always here for you, right?"

 

I nodded. "Of course. But ah, will you do me a big favour?"

 

"Anything, poppet."

 

"Find your largest crucifix or cross or whatever, and start wearing it?"

 

He shook his head fondly. "You're silly."

 

"Please?"

 

At length he nodded. "Again, you're silly, but it won't be a stretch for me." He reached into his shirt and pulled out an enormous, ornate emerald and diamond cross pendant on a simple chain.

 

I beamed. "Oh, perfect. And it's beautiful, too! Is that from your days as a priest?"

 

His cheeks coloured. "Oh, ah, yes. But forgive me, darling, it's been a long day and I'm weary. I think it's time for me to retire for the evening. It's the weekend, you know, and I want to get up early to get some work done!" He leaned over and kissed my forehead before leaving in a hurry, before I could even get a word in edgewise.

 

Well. Like I said, he's awful at lying.

 

* * *

 

 

Pepper was busy this particular Saturday night, so instead I was forced to swap around my plans; Pepper and I would go shopping Sunday, and I would contact Anthony on Saturday using one of his billion business cards that I rescued from the garbage. He showed up almost flatteringly fast, until I realized that a) he didn't respect the speed limit and b) he was fairly sure that I had called to give him my car.

 

"You wish," I told him as I sat down on the cement stairs leading to my house. Like Hell I was going to invite him inside; I had no idea if that was part of his powers or not, but I'd taken great care to explicitly inform the house that he wasn't allowed in, and I wasn't going to go back on that. "So, time for some of the more hot and heavy things."

 

"Oh?" His eyebrow rose.

 

I scoffed at that. "I knew you'd pay attention if I started like that. So, your coven consists of eight vampires named after demons. What are their powers? I remember you can control snakes - which is rather lame for you, considering there are only three types of snakes in England-"

 

"You _would_ look that up, wouldn't you."

 

"-as well as temptation. The others?"

 

He sighed but didn't argue with me. Apparently he wasn't feeling as belligerent today. Lovely! "Well, for obvious reasons, Satan's the one you really want to avoid," Anthony said, looking uncomfortable. "Did I mention that all of this is to remain secret?" "Not yet, but I look forward to hearing that phrase at least twenty more times. Don't worry. Who would believe me?"

 

"The coven would, that's for sure. Satan... his power is to control blood. Human, animal, whatever. So your little quip the other day about biting necks? He doesn't need to do that at all. His methods are far, far messier, but more convenient if he wants them to be. He's a bloodbender, basically. Not that I'm sure if you get that particular nerdy reference."

 

I didn't get that particular nerdy reference, but I shivered anyway. I had no issues with snakes so Anthony's special power was not terribly intimidating, and he wasn't particularly tempting as far as I could see it, but the ramifications of being able to control blood were scary. "But that doesn't seem to be something that would be helpful against other vampires," I pointed out awkwardly, nervously. "You don't have blood flowing through your veins, do you?"

 

"No, but we do live on it," he replied tersely. "Not only can he make it very easy for us to starve to death by draining everything we've hunted, but if we've just fed… Well, our coven used to have a bloke who called himself Dagon. He didn't quite snivel enough and kaboom."

 

"Your choice of words… He exploded?"

 

"From the stomach."

 

"Oh." I winced, all too aware of the blood flowing through my veins. "Well. I think I'm happier never meeting him, then."

 

"Good idea. Beelzebub like I said can control insects, which is also more dangerous than it sounds. Belial's freaky, he can control your emotions."

 

I scowled a little. "You consider emotion control worse than blood control?"

 

"Not worse than that, but worse than the other powers. He can make you so excited you have a heart attack, or so sad you commit suicide, to anything in between.   His personal favourite is sexual arousal, but that's only because he likes getting laid."

 

I huffed, not liking the connotations of that. "Hopefully not with you."

 

He raised that impeccable eyebrow at me. "You'd be jealous?"

 

"No," I retorted quickly, feeling my cheeks burning, “it's just, that's incredibly rude, especially to your housemates. You know how it is. It would be awkward."

 

Anthony smirked, that obnoxious little grin he had that implied his superiority to everything. "Well no, I don't sleep around. With humans it's like sleeping with a filet, and with other vampires it's like sleeping with, well, a vampire. I wouldn't trust any of them to not kill me." He batted his beautiful eyelashes at me. "So don't worry, darling, I'm not cheating on you."

 

I scoffed at his continuing to joke that we were dating, but then it occurred to me that he'd essentially just admitted to being a hundred-year-old virgin and, if I taunted him about that, I would likely get myself killed (he was, after all, still male). Best to just leave this topic alone. "All right, so Belial has emotional control powers. The others?"

 

"Asmodeus is tough, and fast. It may seem like a lame power in comparison to the others, but let me put it like this - he could beat the shit out of pretty much everything ever without any effort. He's stronger than most of us and faster than most of us. So it's not awesome, but it's practical."

 

I nodded my agreement, writing down these notes. "Some sources say that Asmodeus was, before he Fell, the angel of practicality. I suppose that makes a lot of sense that the one with the practical power would take the name of the demon once associated with practicality."

 

"You are such an incredible nerd."

 

"Oh hush.   Let's see… three more, correct?"

 

"Yep. Hastur's power is mind-reading, but admittedly he has to be touching you, so it's not that great." I still made a mental note to make sure I never ever touched him, even though I wouldn't likely do so anyway. "And Ligur can control the weather, but only for about a mile around him. So no, we won't be getting hit by any hurricanes."

 

I thought about it. "So wait, is he-"

 

"Nope, the fog here is 'all natural.'"

 

"Drat. Oh well, it was worth a shot. And Adramelech?"

 

Anthony let out a slightly embarrassed sigh.

 

"Oh dear. It is that bad?"

 

He nodded solemnly. "He's… the sparkliest of us all."

 

"Oh my-"

 

"And he's also the prettiest."

 

"That sounds-"

 

"And his capacity to love others is more… noticeable than ours."

 

I wrote those down, paused, looked at him, looked back at my paper, and looked back at him. "I'm sorry, what? Satan can control blood, and Adramelech is particularly nice?"

 

"I don't make up the rules, I just explain them. But yeah, he got kind of jipped. But the good news is that he's actually pleasant to be around, and even Satan doesn't feel like killing him as often as he feels like killing the rest of us. So, in a way, kind of practical."

 

I nodded as I finished jotting this all down. I now had two topics I wanted to discuss - what sort of hierarchy the vampires had, if any, and if they were the only supernatural creatures around; and what happened in the sunlight. I considered everything and decided that, at the moment, the sunlight issue would be much quicker to solve and involve far less confidential details. Despite my disdain for my vampiric stalker, I didn't want Anthony to explode for telling me confidential information, so it was best I get that from him slowly.

 

"So, what happens in the sunlight?"

 

He groaned. "No. I'm not doing it."

 

"Aww come on, you said yourself it won't kill you. Does it hurt you?"

 

"Only my pride," he muttered.

 

"You haven't got any as far as I'm concerned," I reminded him. "You might as well just humour me."

 

Anthony gave a great sigh, standing up. "Is your father home?"

 

"He's in the shower. There's no windows in it, don't worry."

 

Anthony took off his shirt and then stepped into a beam of sunlight.

 

He began to shine as if a million diamonds were embedded into his skin.

 


	3. Chapter 3

I couldn't resist. I started to giggle. "You sparkle! You're a sparkly vampire! That's - that's terrible! Oh my goodness! I actually feel sorry for you!"

 

He scowled mightily. "It's not funny."

 

I was cracking up hysterically at this point. "But it _is_! You're a shiny, sparkling undead! Oh no, terrible monster of legends, please don't glow at me!"

 

"You are such a bitch! I can't go out into the sunlight because of this, I'm always restricted to the shade, I'm tortured and conflicted and it's _very dramatic!"_

 

" _You sparkle!_ " All right, perhaps it was incredibly rude of me, but can you blame me? Sparkling vampires? How completely preposterous. "But," I gasped out, trying to control my amusement, "I suppose it's better than bursting into flames, though not by much!"

 

Anthony J. Crowley, resident vampire, was downright pouting as he pulled his shirt back on and came to sit next to me. "At least now you understand why I _didn't want to show you_ ," he said, pointedly and sullenly. "And also why we live in England. It's always bloody foggy here."

 

I chuckled, finally getting my humour under control. "Fair enough. So ah, let's see... You have improved senses, better physical strength, nigh invulnerability, special powers, and you don't die in the sunlight. Did I get it all?"

 

"Just about," he muttered. I wondered what he had expected - was I supposed to be impressed with his ability to shimmer? Despite all the allegations that I am behind the times, even I am not impressed with disco balls.

 

"I fail to see any downsides to this, Anthony. Surely there has to be a reason that vampires in literature are all incredibly... what's the phrase...?"

 

"Filled with dramatic tension whilst being completely badass?"

 

"Whiny."

 

He huffed. "We're not all whiny. I'm not whiny at all. Would someone whiny dress as fashionably as I do?"

 

"That argument is completely illogical, but it does bring up an interesting point. Just where does all your money come from? You apparently have enough money to buy old cars, which aren't cheap..."

 

"Meh. You live as long as we do and money sort of flies to you."

 

"How old are you?"

 

"Good Go - crap woman, how many questions are you going to ask me?"

 

"You're answering them, aren't you?" I pointed out. "Clearly you can't be that upset. How many people do you know that know what you are and are curious about it?"

 

He rolled his eyes. "You overestimate my ego." Clearly I didn't, because he continued, "A little over a hundred. I nearly died of the Spanish influenza. Belial turned me. I don't know why."

 

"Awwww. How cute! He's like your vampire daddy then. Are any of them your mum?"

 

He stood up then. "Ugh. You are so... weird. I'm going home now. I refuse to answer any more of your questions." He took a step forward, but stopped when he saw my car in the driveway. He looked at me, then back at the car. "Tell you what, here's a new deal. I'll give you thirty thousand pounds and answer all the questions you want, if you give me the car."

 

I took a deep breath. I considered it, I admit it. Thirty thousand pounds would go a long way towards keeping my father and me comfortable, and the opportunity to press him for everything was very, very tempting.

 

Oh. Tempting. Temptation. His powers.

 

I scowled at that and reminded myself that even if I agreed, he might just kill me once he had my car. "No deal."

 

He looked emotionless behind his sunglasses. "Very well. Consider this the end of my stint as a living Wikipedia." Even as he left, I felt proud of myself for getting a pop-culture reference.

 

* * *

 

 

Pepper wanted to go dress shopping for some sort of upcoming school dance, which surprised me more than it probably ought to. I was quickly figuring out that she was a closeted girly-girl, and if I was the only one she felt comfortable exposing that part of herself to, then I would be flattered and support her. Besides, living with all men meant that my own style was severely lacking, and it couldn't hurt to buy something that another female recommended for me. Also, it was nice having a friend.

 

We drove to London - she had her own car, a red sports car of some kind, which was a boon for me because I couldn't drive with my foot like this - but before we did anything, we went out to dinner at a cutesy little Indian restaurant I'd been fond of when I lived here. It was already fairly late, so thankfully the place wasn’t terribly crowded.

 

"This place is beautiful," said Pepper wistfully as we waited for our orders. "I can't believe you'd move from _here_. Why'd you come to Lower Tadfield anyway?"

 

I winced at her question. "Honestly, I don't know," I admitted. "My father just sort of decided to one day. Maybe he was transferred? He didn't tell me one way or another. Besides... Lower Tadfield is beautiful in a different way. London is beautiful for its history, and Lower Tadfield is beautiful for its serenity."

 

She scoffed at that, sipping her water. "The serenity gets to you, trust me."

 

We chatted during dinner very cordially and stereotypically - about what we were going to do afterwards, about school, about my favourite places to go in London. After we finished eating, Pepper pulled out a credit card with a very long name on it. "Hmm? Is that yours?" I asked, curious.

 

She turned as red as her hair. "What's it to you?"

 

"Is Pepper not your real name?"

 

She shot me a very, very suspicious look before she slowly said, "No. But if you laugh at my name, or use it within earshot of anybody else, I will have to cut you."

 

Oh my goodness. I wasn’t entirely sure how to react to _that_. "Um... All right... But I hope you know I'm probably the last person to be able to make fun of someone's name."

 

She considered that. "Oh. Good point. My full name is Pippin Galadriel Moonchild."

 

She tensed up when my eyebrows shot up in thought. "Oh! Your parents are Tolkien fans? I love Tolkien! _The Lord of the Rings_ is the only movie version of books that I've ever actually enjoyed!"

 

She relaxed considerably. "I guess so, yeah. Never could figure out why I got Pippin as a first name when Galadriel was so much cooler. Anyway, what about you? Where's Aziraphale from?"

 

I was forced to shrug. "I haven't the foggiest. My full name is Aziraphale Michelle Gabrielle Urielle Swan. My father couldn't decide which of my uncles my middle name should be like, so he decided on all three." I whipped out my driver's license, showing it to her. "So actually my name is longer than yours!"

 

I swear, it looked like she was about to cry. "You're the first person I've met with a weirder name than me!"

 

"Oh... yay."

 

Clearly exuberant, she all but dragged me out of the restaurant after we paid. I hurried to keep up with her, although it was difficult what with the hole in my foot. Then again, how many people can claim that they’ve got shot in the foot by a crossbow? But, also, considering my vampire problem, maybe I needed to continue my crossbow lessons. How many people can say _that?_

 

Aye me.

 

Pepper’s speed didn’t change, but her demeanour did. “We’re being followed,” she said, voice terse.

 

I mentally smacked myself. When had my mind gotten so flighty? If I had been alone, I would have been in big trouble. Thank God for Pepper. “All right. Did you get a look at who it is?”

 

“A group,” she said, her eyes darting. “Are we anywhere close to a store?”

 

“Fairly-”

 

“Hello, ladies.” There was a hand on my shoulder and Pepper swung, narrowly missing my ear but decking the person in the nose. I turned and saw that the group had actually been a lot closer than I’d imagined. Maybe Pepper was just as flighty-minded as I was. I was also a little relieved to see that the “group” was actually just four men who didn’t seem too much older than us.

 

The man that Pepper had punched swore rather crudely, holding his nose and backing away. “Hey now, sweetheart, no need for that kind of thing,” said one of his friends. “We’re all just being friendly here, eh?” His two uninjured friends laughed. I couldn’t tell if they were intoxicated or not, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if they were.

 

“Listen, I’ve taken out more than my fair share of douchebags who seem to think that penises make them better than me,” Pepper growled, fists clenched, “So walk away and maybe I won’t have to break them.”

 

“By which she means that she’ll be breaking your penises,” I suggested helpfully. Pepper did not strike me as the type of person who was making up her fighting prowess, so who was I to not trust her? Besides, anything can be a weapon if you use it well, as my uncle Michael taught me, and I had crutches. “So perhaps our newfound friendship ought to remain as just talking. So let’s start with finding out exactly what you want.”

 

The three boys laughed; the other one was still holding his nose and I could see blood dripping on the ground. “I’m guessing not our wallets,” Pepper muttered.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” the tallest one said, and I was starting to get the impression that he was the leader of this little mini-gang, “You’ve got nowhere to run! Can’t believe you didn’t notice you’re at a dead end-”

 

And then he was run over by a small black car, which hastily squealed to a stop on top of him. After gaping and swearing, the three others ran off into the night. I barely noticed a quick flash of black pursuing them.

 

“What the fuck just happened?” asked Pepper, blinking in surprise.

 

“I think we just got rescued,” I said, although I was confused as well. Had that been Anthony? _Well, he is stalking me,_ I pointed out to myself, _I suppose if he only did it in Lower Tadfield it wouldn’t be thorough._ “Ah, we might want to leave.”

 

“Yeah,” Pepper muttered, walking off after making sure that I was following her. “I wanted to beat them up myself, but I guess getting hit by a car isn’t too good for that wanker either.”

 

So yes, after being accosted and “rescued” (I might have been flattered if I wasn’t still amused that Anthony was stalking me despite complaining earlier about me) we actually did go dress shopping. “I’m going to the formal this year, so my dress is going to be amazing,” she said with confidence. “You’re going too.”

 

“What’s a formal?”

 

“School formal. It’s like the prom in America and Canada. Stupid idea overall but I _will_ be going. I think I’m going to run for Queen, too.”

 

I was completely lost. “But the Queen isn’t an elected official,” I protested.

 

She stared at me. “How big was the rock you lived under?”

 

“I didn’t live under a rock!”

 

“It’s a school dance. A fancy school dance, held at the end of the year, and for some reason students pick a King and Queen there.”

 

“Ohhh. I get it now. So you’re looking for dresses for this.”

 

“Exactly. So are you, by the way.”

 

“Wait, what? I don’t want to go to something like this!” I could feel my heartbeat speed up just from the _idea_ of going into a big public shindig. I likely couldn’t survive _actually_ attending.

 

It took us about two hours, leading us to closing time, but we found a dress for her. It was olive green, strapless with lots of, ah, ruffles and things in the skirt part and sparkly gems in the bodice. It was very pretty, especially given her colouring. Also, I imagined that a large group of people would have a heart attack when they saw her, which I imagine was part of her plan. She is that kind of person, after all.

 

You’ll notice we did not find a dress for me. At the time I considered it to be a great boon, but in retrospect… well, you’ll see.

 

* * *

 

 

Citizenship turned out to be a lecture course of some type, as Mr Tyler spent the entire bloody class ranting about how Lower Tadfield was both the most wonderful place on Earth and yet filled with hooligans and other horrible things that ought to be removed by the police force, because why else would we pay for them? I could hear Adam in the back of the class giggling, which made me realize just who the “hooligans” were that Mr Tyler hated. I couldn’t fathom Adam and his friends doing anything terrible, so it really lessened the impact of Mr Tyler’s entire point.

 

Unfortunately, as the two new people, Anthony and I sat next to each other in the front row, which meant there was no way we could not at least pretend to pay attention. I tried to, honestly, I really did, but after the twentieth minute I found it almost impossible.

 

Hoping for a distraction, I glanced at Anthony, who was sitting on my right. He was completely still, unnaturally so; no breathing, no moving, and it seemed that even the breeze in the classroom wasn’t rustling his dark hair. It was… eerie, I admit it. Part of me wanted to start shaking him so he’d come back to himself and at least start pretending to be human. In fact, when Mr Tyler excused himself to get a drink, I reached over to Anthony to do just that, and noticed his fingers were twitching.

 

No, not so much “twitching” as they were “having spasms.” I froze in my own seat, watching him for more signs of life – his brow was slightly creased as well, and occasionally nerves in his face would twitch.

 

My jaw dropped a little, incredulous. Was he sleeping? Was he _dreaming?_ Or was he having some sort of seizure? Or a terror episode of some kind? He certainly didn’t look comfortable…

 

My heart melted in that moment. He hated his family and he was stalking me, the only person who knew what he was other than them. He was clearly calling for help. How could I have been so insensitive? And to think, even after he’d gotten incensed at my using him as a vampiric encyclopaedia he still came to London to make sure I was safe.

 

He wanted help. He wanted a way out. But what was I supposed to do about it?

 

During the rest of Mr Tyler’s rant, I formulated a plot.

 

* * *

 

 

Thanks to my injury, I was forced into alternative physical education. I chose to do yoga because, coupled with my foot being the way it was, it involved little physical movement. Sergeant Shadwell called me a pansy, but because I think his entire respiratory system must be filled with tobacco I could pretend to not understand him. It made keeping my sanity easier.

 

So as I stretched my back and my arms, I perfected the plot that had hatched during Citizenship.

 

I would figure out where the vampires’ lair was. I would arm myself accordingly and then go to visit them. Placing the blame on Hastur and Ligur’s shoulders, I would say that I had figured out what they were and would keep silent so long as they answered my questions. My goal was to gain their trust so that Anthony would no longer have to hide his actions from his coven; he could converse with me about absolutely anything without worrying for his safety.

 

It was there that the plan fell apart. What then? Once trust had been established, what happened next? Did I function as outside support for Anthony? That seemed to be my best bet, the absolute best thing I could do for him. I would give the poor soul a safe and nurturing environment, and teach him some manners while I was at it. Goodness knows he needed the help.

 

Perhaps, after graduation of course, we could even leave the area so he could get away from his “family” and still have someone with –

 

My entire body jerked with recognition of what I had just thought. This included the muscles in my leg connected to my foot, which sent a spasm of intense pain through my entire body. As I fought to keep a stiff upper lip, I considered it a just reward for thinking the way I had. _Run away with him?_ I demanded of myself. _Are you mad, or just daft? You can just barely tolerate each other and yet you’re plotting running off into the sunset!_

 

I had to figure out where this thought came from. Were my nurturing instincts so strong, or was there something more? … Did I, in fact, not just barely tolerate him?

 

He was attractive, there was no doubt about that.   The stalking thing would bother me more if I thought he had some malicious intent in mind – instead, I was starting to believe he was simply social inept. And he had “saved” me from some muggers in London, which was rather nice of him, even if it did give him permission to murder some low-life scum. He was, of course, snarky and obnoxious.

 

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly as I allowed my mind to absorb the truth: I fancied him.

 

Not a lot, mind you! He was still far more of a pest than anything else. But I didn’t _hate_ him, and it was time for me to accept that. Right. I was allowed to find someone attractive, wasn’t I? Even if his personality was atrocious, for the most part? Right? Right??????

 

* * *

 

 

After school I went home, put on as many crucifixes as I could without looking like a complete loon, grabbed one of my favourite Bibles, and sat down at my computer to use a reverse number check on the internets. According to them, Anthony’s business number was a phone connected to a house just outside of Lower Tadfield. Not exactly the stealthiest thing for him to do, but really, what was going to hurt him? Knowing where the vampires’ lair was, I got in my car and began the journey.

 

Was I nervous? Oh, incredibly so. I wasn’t going in blind at least, but Sergeant Shadwell had refused my request for one of his crossbows (or, considering I couldn’t understand a word he said, I _assumed_ he said no) and so I had no weapons but the Word. Hopefully I would be protected, even if I couldn’t launch any sort of offensive.

                                                                                                                               

I scoffed at myself. How silly! I was going in to talk, not to wipe them all out or any such thing. How absurd. I had my Faith, and Anthony had assured me that would keep me safe, and that was all I needed.

 

I went over the coven in my mind. Satan could control blood, Beelzebub could control insects, Belial could control emotions, Asmodeus was stronger and faster than most, Adramelech had been completely screwed over as far as special powers were concerned, Hastur could read minds if he was in physical contact with the person, Ligur could control the weather for a limited amount of control, and Crowley could control snakes. So logically, I was safe from all of them except for Ligur – who could possibly strike me with lightning or some such, or at least not come into contact with me – and Beelzebub, who would also not need to contact me in order for me to die of parasitic infestation. In theory I was safe from direct tampering, which would negate Satan, Belial and Asmodeus’ powers.

 

In theory. I was basing a lot of things on theory.

 

I turned down a narrow dirt path leading into forest. To cheer myself up, I pictured them all living in a large castle of some kind, decorated with bones and spider-webs and whatever sort of cliché things I could think of. You know, a moat filled with blood, that sort of thing. And of course, the forest would be covered in a blanket of night, as the sun itself would be too terrified to shed light on their evil, sparkly lair…

 

I snickered to myself before gasping in surprise as the real house came into view. The only thing I had gotten right was _large_. The building was a massive complex with its own parking lot filled with old cars in front of a garage filled with new cars, connected to a grandiose mansion the likes of which you only see on the telly. The gardens surrounding the estate were impeccable, complete with a massive fountain (of a urinating putti, which isn’t exactly evil, but it is rather sacrilegious if you’re a vampire, I imagine). The sunlight was streaming in beams through the clouds, illuminating the beautiful white marble that accented the entire place. In a word, it was _beautiful_.

 

I parked my car off to the side of where the tiny dirt road had turned into a shimmering driveway, careful to make sure that I hadn’t stopped it anywhere near the other cars. No need to give anyone an excuse to think that I was handing it over. Quelling my jealousy by convincing myself of disappointment in the lack of bats or heads on pikes, I got out of the car, locked it, and started walking towards the front door.


	4. Chapter 4

There hadn’t been a doorbell. Even worse, the door was unlocked. Although that made a lot of sense to me when I thought about it. Who did they have to fear? Anyone who came in would likely become food, and then they wouldn’t have to hunt for it.

 

Oh, that was reassuring. Ugh.

 

The entryway was massive, lined with expensive and elaborate stonework that made the entire place echo. There was even a huge marble statue of an incredibly handsome man who was clearly looking down his nose at whoever walked in. Charming, that.

 

Clutching my Bible to my chest, I took in my surroundings before clearing my throat. It would be rude to sneak around the place, and against my purposes, so it seemed I would have to get the attention of those who lived here another way – the old-fashioned way. “HULLO?” There was no answer. “HULLO, VAMPIRE COVEN!”

 

 _That_ got me an answer!

 

In less than five seconds, I found myself facing three different men whom I had never seen before. The first was short compared to his companions but still taller than I was; he was handsome in a way that made it difficult to focus on any distinguishing features and instead made you take in the whole thing as simply _perfect._

 

Next to him was a large, muscular man whose tight shirt was showing off his perfect, powerful physique; his hair was to his shoulders and wavy, and he had just enough stubble on his jaw to look rugged without looking unkempt.

 

The third man was not as handsome as the first but far more beautiful, with straight dark hair that fell down his back and his eyes, oh goodness his eyes were coloured like peacock feathers. Even in the darkness of the room he was glowing, it seemed to me. “Ugh, that is the tackiest shade of tartan I have _ever_ seen,” he scoffed, looking at my skirt. “Yes I know it’s the cliché for mousey little girls to wear such things, but no one ever said cliché was good.”

 

The larger one rolled his eyes. “We have more important things to concern ourselves with, Adra. You, girl! Who are you and how do you know what we are?”

 

As I steeled myself to respond, the shorter one interjected, “She’s not all that nervous. Probably because of the eight hundred pounds of blessed things on her. Still, she’s either completely insane, or incredibly brave.” He shrugged. “I say we eat her and not worry about it.”

 

The middle one sighed heavily. “Why do I always have to be the reasonable one? We can’t just eat everyone who walks in, especially not if they know what we are. What if she’s told anyone else? How’d she figure it out? You _know_ we can’t leave and it could be a pain in the arse to kill everyone who knows.”

 

I saw an opportunity and I blurted out, “You can’t leave here? Why not? See, that’s all I wanted to do – was find out more about why you’re here.” _And figure out some way I can help Anthony, which I can’t do if I don’t know what’s going on._

 

The first two looked taken aback, but the third one, Adramelech, laughed gaily. “Oh, how refreshing! Someone just barges in and gets the point. It doesn’t happen enough for my tastes.”

 

“You’re the last person who can complain about _that_ ,” the shorter one said dryly.

 

“You don’t ask the questions here, girl,” the larger one said, voice almost a growl. “I don’t care who you are, but how did you figure out what we are?” There was a hint of a smile in his red eyes, and it was not comforting at all. “Even your little toys won’t save you if I don’t like your answer.”

 

I did notice, despite my ever-quickening heart-rate and my internal mantra that he was bluffing, that two of the vampires’ eyes were bright red – Adramelech’s were not, oddly enough. I was quickly discovering that a skill of mine when I’m terrified is to notice completely inane details that won’t help me whatsoever. I took a deep breath to focus myself and then replied, “Oh, two of your members are teachers at my school. They weren’t paying attention, so when they walked into the sun they lit up and I saw it.” I scoffed as convincingly as I could. “Not to mention they were talking about which students they thought would be tastiest. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t gotten a lot of people coming to visit you with questions, considering those two.”

 

To my surprise, the shorter vampire face-palmed while his two companions let out very similar sighs of resigned annoyance. I prided myself on my lie; besides, if someone killed Hastur and Ligur, I could also pride myself on having abetted in the removal of two evil vampires from the world. Evil vampires who were terrible teachers, no less. Doubly sinful!

 

“Whose idea was it to let them work with children?” the larger one asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“Better than that, why are they still around?” asked Adramelech of no one in particular, knowing there was no good answer to that question. “Honestly, they make the rest of us look bad.”

 

The shorter one looked at me. “So, what’s your name, anyway? Or do we call you ‘human girl who hasn’t been eaten yet’?”

 

I huffed at that. “My name is Aziraphale.” Best not give them my last name. “And yours?”

 

He shrugged. “I’m Belial, this is Asmodeus,” he gestured to the larger vampire, “and that’s Adramelech. Welcome to our humble ab… ode… wait. Aziraphale.” His brow furrowed. “Where have I heard that name before?”

 

“You’re right, it’s very familiar,” Asmodeus agreed. “But-”

 

Adramelech lit up, literally and figuratively. “That’s right! The one Crowley has a crush on! His little schoolmate! Awwwwww, ickle Cwowey has a giiiiiwlfwwwwiiiend!”

 

I could feel my face heat up. “Wait, what? No! No, we’re not dating and he definitely doesn’t have a, a crush on me! He’s stalking me, more like!” Surely he didn’t! But why would they know my name… He must have been complaining about me, that’s all. Stupid arse. Then I considered what my cover story was, and I amended, “Are you suggesting he’s one of you as well? That’s absurd, there’s no way he’s a vampire!”

 

“What the flying fuck are _you_ doing here?”

 

Ah, and there was Anthony, home from whatever busy things he does all day when he’s not pulling on my pigtails and throwing spit-balls at me. He grabbed a hold of my shoulder and had to let go, hissing as he drew his hand in to his chest. Oops. “I’m investigating,” I informed him curtly, not removing my attention from his three companions, “I quickly figured out that Mr Ligur and Mr Hastur were vampires, so I decided to look at their home. I have to say, Anthony, that I’m quite surprised to see _you_ here.”

 

He didn’t say anything as he stepped around me to stand with the other members of his coven. “Of course,” he said carefully, “I’m not half as obvious and stupid as those two.” I couldn’t stop staring at him, as this was the first time I had seen him since my yoga-inspired realization earlier in the day. Goodness, he was attractive. It wasn’t fair that such a handsome man was the body of such a complete wanker.

 

“I like her!” Adramelech proclaimed, sounding downright giddy, “My favourite humans are the ones who squander all of their potential with dowdy clothes and no makeup so that I can swoop in and turn them into beautiful pieces of art! Can we keep her, pleeeaaaase?”

 

 _Do not antagonise the murderous vampires, do not antagonise the murderous vampires…_ I chanted to myself, having to remind myself of my terror in order to not tell off Adramelech for his criticisms.

 

Belial waved that away with a hand. “Whatever, I’m bored now.” He sauntered off, and I could see some of Anthony’s walk in him. Ah, yes, that was right, Belial was Anthony’s vampire daddy. His sire? Maybe that was the correct term.

 

“Aaaadraaaa,” Asmodeus said with fondness, “you know that the boss won’t let you keep any pet humans.”

 

“Oh, but this one already knows what we are!” he protested, pouting, “And besides, I think it’s adorable that Crowley finally has a girl he has a crush on!”

 

“I do not-” he began, but Adramelech was having none of it.

 

“We just have to make sure that she stays away from Satan and Beelzebub whenever she doesn’t have her protection on!” he continued gaily, “Besides, once our illustrious leader takes care of our weakest links, I’ll need new entertainment.”

 

Oh dear. Was he implying that Satan was going to kill Hastur and Ligur? Now I felt a little guilty. I reminded myself that they were, for all their ineptitude, heartless killers.

 

Asmodeus sighed and ruffled Adramelech’s hair. “You do what you want.” He looked at me, and the fondness was completely gone. “So Adramelech has claimed you, but one false move, and you’ll be dinner.” With that, he walked off as well.

 

Adramelech turned to Anthony. “Ooo I’m so excited! Give her a tour, and I’ll find a break in my busy schedule so I can take her and get her all fixed up! This is woooonderfuuul!” He flounced off, quickly scaling the grand marble staircase. He didn’t strike me as a vampire at all, but rather some sort of fairy. Maybe he really _was_ a fairy? That would make a lot of sense…

 

Anthony watched him go before quickly turning to face me. He even took off his customary shades, likely so I could see just how pissed he was. His eyes were still golden, and I made a mental note to ask him about that. “What the fuck are you thinking?” he demanded in a heated whisper. “Are you fucking insane? I told you to stay away!”

 

“I don’t have to listen to you,” I informed him, holding my ground. “Besides, I came in prepared, and now the air is cleared. I don’t have to pretend to not know anymore, and you don’t have to pretend that I don’t.”

 

“That’s not the point!” he hissed, his golden eyes starting to glow red, “A human knowing our secrets is against our laws! You have no fucking idea how much danger you’re in right now!”

 

“Laws?” I echoed. His crude language was rubbing me the wrong way, but I had more important things to concern myself with. “You have laws?”

 

He punched the wall. Clearly I’d made him mad. It made me feel even guiltier, but I placated myself by reminding me that he’d get over it and likely appreciate the gesture. “Yesss. And trussst me there is no way to get away with anything! You’re either going to die or be turned into a vampire, you ssstupid bitch!”

 

I was starting to get angry now too. “That’s enough!” I snapped at him, and he jerked in surprise. “Quit being melodramatic and tell me the facts!”

 

The rest of his face was completely calm, but his eyes betrayed his worry. He quickly put his glasses back on. “The Volturi are our governing body. They’re the oldest and most powerful vampires in the world. They live in Italy, but it doesn’t matter – they have agents everywhere. We have two laws – don’t create new vampires without careful control, and don’t tell humans about vampires.”

 

His dread was contagious. “And… what are their powers?” I asked softly, not sure I wanted to know the answer. Anthony lived with a vampire who could control blood. What could be worse than that?

 

“There are five of them, named for the Horsepersons of the Apocalypse. War, Famine, Pestilence, Pollution, and Death.”

 

“Pollution isn’t a-”

 

“This is not the time! Each one of them is their own army, but together they are unstoppable! War – her powers are like Bel’s but way more focused, she can make anyone incredibly angry, enraged, whatever, that they attack anyone and try to kill them! Famine can force you to waste away to nothing, Pestilence can infect anyone with any kind of disease imaginable, Pollution – uh – ah – okay I don’t remember what Pollution does but I’m sure it’s horrible! And Death – oh dear L – Ch – Manchester. Do I really need to tell you what Death does?”

 

I felt like this would be a good time for me to interrupt his little crazed psycho-fest with some good old-fashioned pop culture references. Goodness knows I’d been knocked out of a perfectly foul mood by an unexpected joke about _Doctor Who_. “He can choke you with the Force whenever he finds your lack of faith disturbing?” I suggested brightly. “I can only hope he’s voiced by James Earl Jones.” Two references! I am amazing.

 

It completely threw him off, I’m glad to say. “You… you’ve seen _Star Wars_?”

 

“Only the first one.”

 

“Oh, that’s not right, _The Empire Strikes Back_ is the best one, I’m going to have to make you watch it, there’s just nothing else to be done about it.”

 

“Fair enough,” I said happily. “Now then, back to our original topic.” He looked stricken again, so I continued, “The easiest way to avoid any sort of repercussions would either be for me to not visit here and deny any sort of knowledge about your kind, or for you to turn me into a vampire.” I was in my perfectly logical happy mode so this seemed like an obvious choice, but trust me, the ramifications of that would hit me later on.

 

That threw him off even more-so than the pop culture reference! “You – ah – _what?_ You…” Abruptly he scoffed. “You do not want to be turned into a vampire, trust me on that one. No, I think the best course here is to make sure we never see each other again.” After a few seconds of silence, he amended, “And good riddance.”

 

I wasn’t convinced at all. “That’s just silly, and regardless, your coven-mates revealed that you can’t leave this area anyway.”

 

“Ah. Yes. … That business.”

 

“What business?”

 

“No amount of bribery is going to make me tell you _that_ ,” he said sternly. “Considering I don’t even know what it is.”

 

“Oh.” Well, that was awfully logical. “Fair enough, I suppose. I wonder why they wouldn’t tell you, though.”

 

He shrugged. “I don’t think anyone but Satan knows why we’re here. Which is a very good point – you need to leave before he gets home from work.”

 

I tried not to giggle at the image of the Devil wearing a cute little police uniform for his day job. “He works? Do I dare ask what he works as?”

 

“No you don’t,” he said firmly before opening the door. I have a feeling that if he could have touched me, he would have pushed me out. “And if nothing else, as cordial as they’ve been thus far, the last thing we need is for one of the elders to get hungry.”

 

My internal desire to live was what compelled me to go outside. “Yes, well, it was nice seeing you. See you tomorrow at school.”

 

He rolled his eyes and slammed the door, and I scurried away as fast as my bum foot would allow me.

 

* * *

 

Mr Hastur was still teaching maths the following day, much to my surprise. Perhaps this Satan was more considerate than everyone had given him credit for, or maybe no one had told him about me. That would be nice.

 

 _You know, this would all be easier if these vampires were the kind, peace-loving ones,_ I thought to myself as I stared at my calculus sheet with a blank brain. Goodness I hated integrals! _It would be awfully convenient if I didn’t have to worry about being murdered in my sleep or eaten._ All right, I had no idea what to do here, so I raised my hand to ask.

 

Mr Hastur had been pacing around the room, casting a lean tall shadow everywhere he went, and so rather than answer my question from where he was, he came over to stand next to me.

 

Placing his hand on my shoulder.

 

I tried to shut down my brain. _Integrals integrals integrals_ “I don’t remember what exactly it is I’m trying to find here,” I admitted. _Integrals integrals_

His hand was hard and cold, and I could feel it through my shirt. Like it was made of rock. And maybe I was mistaken, but it felt like something was pressing its finger into my skull, _into_ my skull –

 

I was going to give myself away, so I amended my internal mantra to, _Ms Suzie had a turtle, his name was Tiny Tim, she put him in a bathtub, to see if he could swim!_

He was doing something, pointing to something on my paper, and I’m sure he was using words, but I wasn’t listening.

 

_He drank up all the water, he ate up all the soap, he tried to eat the bathtub but it wouldn’t go down his throat!_

 

He looked probably as perplexed as I did when I was contemplating all the squiggly lines.

 

_Ms Suzie called the doctor, Ms Suzie called the nurse, Ms Suzie called the lady with the alligator purse!_

With a pat to my shoulder, he walked away.

 

I felt a cold sweat break out over me. Had I done it, and he just thought I was a complete loon? Or did he now know I knew… and also thought I was a complete loon?

 

If he knew, he didn’t give any indication. In fact, he seemed to dismiss me completely, as when we went over the paper he refused to even look in my direction. Apparently to him I was a complete loon. Terrible for my pride, but excellent for my safety.

 

If the paper had been a test I would have flunked, by the way. And, to add insult to injury, I had the stupid song stuck in my head.

 

* * *

 

I got home first after school, and I as chopped up vegetables for soup I tried to consider what all was going on.

 

According to Anthony, because I knew about vampires I was likely going to die due to the edict of the Volturi, or I was going to be turned into a vampire. Really, I didn’t see what was so bad about being a vampire. Apparently you get super speed, super strength, and an extra power to boot, all in exchange for needing to hunt for meals. Considering I was not a vegetarian, I wouldn’t mind that sort of thing, I figured. Hopefully I could wait until after graduation, at least!

 

And then there was the reason they were stuck in Lower Tadfield to begin with. Personally I hadn’t seen much of interest in the area, so I couldn’t imagine what they were looking for. Perhaps some sort of ancient relic? Maybe archaeology wasn’t very popular here. Hopefully they could hold off on whatever it was until after I was turned into a vampire.

 

The door opened. “Dinner smells absolutely delicious,” said my father, sounding proud. “I’m _so_ glad you inherited my cooking abilities and not my brothers’!”

 

My reply that Uncle Uriel was an accomplished sweets baker died on my tongue.

 

Oh, yes. My father. I would… well, surely I wouldn’t have to… I mean, if I became a vampire, surely he would… no, but if I told him, he would be in danger too… I would never…

 

My nose stung and I felt the most powerful urge to give him a hug, so I left the counter and tackle-hugged him, burying my eyes in his shoulder. “Thank you,” I said, remembering the compliment he’d paid me before my musings had taken their dark turn.

 

“Darling, what’s wrong?” He hugged me tightly, gently rocking like he used to when I was a little girl. I found it immeasurably comforting.

 

“Oh, nothing,” I replied as jovially as possible. “Just, you know, thought you could use a hug.”

 

He stroked his hair. “Silly girl. You know you can talk to me, right?”

 

I nodded, which was harder than it sounds like considering my forehead was pressed against his shoulder already. “Yes, I know, I know, don’t worry. I love you, Daddy.”

 

“I love you too, sweet one. Perhaps after dinner you and I should just curl up on the couch and read together, like we used to.”

 

I felt my heart warm. “That sounds perfect.”

 

He kissed my ear. “Then we shall, silly Zizi.”

 

The doorbell rang, interrupting my little self-pity party. Separating myself from my father, I moved to quickly brush my eyes off but he beat me to it, with a handkerchief, no less. “You go get something to drink, my dear, I’ll see who it is.” I nodded and started to brew some tea. God, I needed tea.

 

I wasn’t paying attention to what was going on at the door, which was rather stupid of me, in retrospect. After the door opened and words were exchanged, the person at the door was downright excited as he came in, and it seemed like our kitchen lit up. “Hello again Aziraphale!” Adramelech said happily, and I nearly burnt my hand. “I know it’s gauche to show up uninvited but I simply _had_ to come visit!” He smiled at my father and continued, “You see, she’s dating my nephew and she stopped by earlier today and I was planning on giving her a makeover but she left so suddenly and I was _hurt_ , _offended_ but of course I understand that your little girl is a busy bee and so I thought I’d stop by myself instead!”

 

You could practically see the little hearts dancing around my father’s head. “We’ve only been here two weeks and already she has friends. I couldn’t be happier, I really couldn’t. What did you say your name was?”

 

He laughed airily. “Adramelech is what I go by nowadays, but please don’t be too put-off by the classical nature of it. We all have to make sacrifices to fit in, you know how it is.”

 

Knowing my father as well as I do – maybe not his history, but I do know his mannerisms – I could see him tense up slightly, and his smile become more forced. “Of course, of course. Well, have a seat, my daughter is making dinner and tea and you’re welcome to have some and chat for a bit before you do goodness knows what to her.” He chuckled. “Hopefully nothing too drastic. I think she makes a good blonde, much like her uncle.”

 

What followed was very strange to me – despite being faux friendly at best, my father and Adramelech proceeded to sit at the table and discuss me as if I wasn’t even there and as if they were the best of friends. Both of them were exceedingly polite.

 

I tried to compute this into what I already knew. Adramelech’s powers were to, sadly, be shiny and nice, which I suppose fit in delightfully in this situation. Was he really here because I was so fashion backward?

 

_Why did everyone seem to take offense at my wardrobe???_

 

Er, sorry. Anyhow. I wasn’t sure what to think about my father either – he seemed very put-off. Did he know more than he was letting on, or was he simply biased because Adramelech was a demon’s name?

 

Of course, knowing what I did, I couldn’t imagine how anyone could think Adramelech was human. He, Anthony, Belial and Asmodeus at least, they were all physical gods, perfectly formed and stunningly attractive. I didn’t find myself sexually attracted to Adramelech because there was something distinctly… ah, what’s the word… he came across as a bit of a poofter, but still, I could admire how perfect –

 

All right, that’s it. From now on, every time I use the word “perfect” to describe one of these vampires, I’m going to slap myself in the face.

 

Anyhow, so yes, I brewed up some tea while those two chatted. I was only half paying attention, because I was still emotionally rattled from my earlier revelatory experience and, to top it off, a little offended at how brazenly they were discussing me. As such, I didn’t even notice when Adramelech flounced upstairs until I turned around to place to cups on the table only to see that one of the recipients was gone. “Er,” I said. “Where did he go?”

 

My father let out a weary chuckle. “Upstairs. He wanted to investigate your wardrobe.”

 

“And you let him?” I demanded, placing down the cups and preparing to hobble off to defend my poor closet.

 

To my surprise, though, he reached out and grabbed my sleeve, pulling me onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly. “I wanted a chance to hug you,” he said simply, rocking a little bit.

 

Oh. Aw. I rubbed his red hair and settled in, guests be damned (possibly literally).

 

When Adramelech came downstairs he quickly excused himself and made his way out into the night, and I didn’t even care or consider what he’d been doing upstairs. I had more important things to worry about, anyway – my family.

 

* * *

 

 

When I arrived at school the next day I was early and the parking lot was sparsely occupied. Thank goodness, because hobbling through throngs of people was a total inconvenience. I parked my car, hopped out, grabbed my crutches and my school bag and started the trek to school; yes, I still parked far away so that no one would hurt my father’s old, fragile car, but I had to park just a bit closer ever since I hurt my foot. My poor, poor foot.  

 

Another car pulled into the parking lot, aiming for a space not far from me. It barely registered in my brain at the time; after all, I had far more to worry about. Like, for instance, what I was going to do when I saw Anthony today. Was he going to renege on that whole “act as if we don’t know one another” thing, like he had on plenty of other vows of solitude? Or would –

 

I nearly had a heart attack when the truck blared its horn, and I sharply looked up to see that it was headed right towards me –

 

I barely managed to brace myself, but I was completely flabbergasted when the impact I’d been expected didn’t happen. I heard the crash, the crunch, but felt nothing. Was I dead, or…?

 

When silence settled, I risked opening up an eye.

 

The truck was totalled, the entire front end crushed in. Between me and the car was none other than Anthony, whose fancy suit was the only thing that had sustained any damage. The boy in the truck had his mouth open and he was staring blankly, and I imagine I looked similar. “Oh dear God,” I managed, and that was about all I was able to say.

 

“No thanks,” the vampire said bitterly, picking me up and moving me out of the way even as the boy got out of his truck.

 

“I’m so sorry!” he blurted. “I have no idea what happened, I really don’t! I was driving just fine and everything was normal and suddenly it was like I was on a sheet of ice!”

 

Anthony’s nostrils flared a little but otherwise he was the picture of perfect calm. “You hit an oil slick,” he said as if something like that happened every day. “Can’t you smell it?”

 

The boy and I both looked and, lo and behold, the truck had come to rest on top of colourful gasoline spread over the pavement. The boy reacted faster than I did when he gasped in complete surprise. “Oh my God I’m so sorry, I got my car inspected not that long ago, I don’t know what happened, can I call you an ambulance or something?”

 

That shocked me out of my shock. My father would likely kill me if I showed up in the hospital again. “No, no, please don’t, I’m fine – we’re both fine, I think you, I think your car hit something else, or something, I don’t know…” How did one explain the fact that the front end was crushed? “Regardless, if you need to go yourself, feel free to call but we’re definitely fine!” Great, now Anthony and I were a _we_. This day had just started and it was already horrible.

 

I think the poor thing was about to cry as he scribbled down his name and phone number on a scrap sheet of paper he fetched from his book bag. His name was Tyler. “Here, take this, in case something happens later, okay? I ah, I need to call the police, don’t I, because of the damage?”

 

The poor thing was completely discombobulated so I helped him call emergency services to get his car towed. Due to being about to pass out from shock he did end up going to the hospital, although I lied to the authorities about my tangential involvement so I avoided the same fate.

 

By the time it was all said and done, school still hadn’t started yet and the crowd around the area was extensive, so Anthony carried me out of the parking lot and into the relatively empty building. “We’re right fucked,” he said cheerfully, although his brow was furrowed.

 

“Watch your language,” I chastised, finally losing my patience at his swears. “Just tell me what you think happened without the dramatic crudeness attached.”

 

“You haven’t guessed? The Volturi know you know. That was an assassination attempt. That was Pollution’s powers.”

 

I frowned too, although mine was more irritated than his. I couldn’t believe him – what a complete jump of logic! I’d only let the vampires know about me _yesterday_ , and I refused to believe that today they were already plotting my death, and from such a long distance! “Be reasonable,” I murmured, not wanting anyone to overhear, “It’s far too soon, and we’re not even in the main European continent. Just assume this was an automobile malfunction.”

 

He placed me down in my homeroom seat, picking up my bag as he did so. He was still scowling and it was fairly clear from his body language he wasn’t listening to me. “Just, just don’t move,” he said, mumbling distractedly as he sauntered out the door.

 

“You don’t know my locker combination,” I volunteered lamely, wondering what his problem was. Wouldn’t he be happy if I died? It would save him a lot of aggravation. Of course, he wouldn’t get my car – if he thought I was stubborn in that regard, it was because he hadn’t tried to ask _my father_ for the car yet – but…

 

It finally dawned on me that he’d saved my life – this time for certain, unlike the time in London where I could have conceivably saved myself. He saved my life, 100%, no questions asked. If he hadn’t gotten in the way, I would be dead.

 

Holy shit on a shit sandwich with shit on top.


	5. Chapter 5

I spent this Friday morning in a daze, which was probably for the best considering that Anthony did manage to get my bag into my locker, and I probably don’t want to know how he did it. My brain was having difficulties with this new bit of information: he’d actually saved my life, willingly. His life would have become far easier if he hadn’t.

 

So, during homeroom I wrote down a summarization: Anthony collected old cars and as such wanted my father’s. However, he hadn’t watched his back and so I was able to find out that he was actually a vampire, and part of a murderous coven. After deducing I fancied him (not for his mind, alas) I had introduced myself to said coven, so now at least four out of nine members knew who I was. Then Anthony saved my life from a truck that was speeding towards me, although we have no idea as to the cause of the oil slick, and thus proved that at least on an instinctual level that he didn’t want me dead.

 

I, being human, secretly hoped that maybe he would find me appealing as well.   Not that I would blame him if not. I’ve been called mousy, dowdy and a nerd more times than I can count, as well as a bitch and incredibly clumsy. Granted, most of those insults were from the same person, and that person was him, and I certainly returned them in kind, but regardless, I was not a stellar catch by any stretch of the imagination.

So of course that was the day when we started reading an epic tale of star-crossed lovers.

 

I hate _Romeo & Juliet, _for the record.

 

Most of the girls cooed when Ms Device announced what we were reading. One of them – whose name I made a mental note to forget for being a horrible judge of character – squealed excitedly. “Oh, are we going to act it out?” she asked. “Please say yes, I would make an amazing Juliet and this play is so romantic!”

 

“It is not!” I blurted out before I thought better of it. “Honestly, this play is terrible!”

 

My declaration elicited affronted gasps from the girls.

 

Ms Device was smiling, her face not betraying which way she felt. “Really? You’ve read it before?”

 

My jaw dropped a little at the allegation that I _hadn’t_. “Of course I have! It’s my least favourite play, except for _Titus Andronicus_ , which was trying too hard. But _Romeo & Juliet_ can be summarized as ‘two obnoxious children ignore practicality in favour of a good shag, and die for being morons.’”

 

The girls in the class began protesting this loudly, although I ignored them easily because _I was right_. Anthony was snickering into his hand. Ms Device was also obviously amused at the outburst I’d caused. After class – and after I’d offended all of the teenage girls in the world – Wensleydale approached me, taking my bag. “The play is awful. I’ve been saying that for years but nobody ever listened. On behalf of rational people everywhere, _thank you.”_

 

I was touched. “Well, it’s true, that’s all.”

 

Brian came out to stand next to him. “It’s hard being an agent of truth and justice, so we want you to join us.”

Both of them looked so serious that I was starting to get nervous. “Um?”

 

“Do you have a laptop?” asked Brian. When I nodded (it was old, but Uncle Michael was a surprisingly good handyman and electrician so it was up to date), he continued, “Saturday nights in Wensley’s room, because he’s got a LAN. Bring your computer. We take turns with snacks.”

 

“What?” I asked, because it seemed like the best question at the time.

 

“You’ll see,” said Brian, wiggling his fingers dramatically before walking away.

 

Wensley was smiling, albeit a little embarrassedly. “Just… ignore him. He’s dramatic. Anyway, I’ll give you my address later this week, okay? What class are you going to now? I’ll carry your bag.”

 

I thanked him and he helped me hobble to maths.

 

* * *

 

“I am ad-bay at atin-Lay,” said Adam later that afternoon. “I ish-way we could earn-lay a ifferent-day anguage-lay, like erman-Gay or panish-Say.”

 

The class was giggling, me included. Ms Nutter was an old woman who had a twinkle in her eye like she knew something you didn’t and it was very funny, and she laughed out loud. “Oh Adam, is my teaching so bad that we’re almost to the end of the calendar year and you don’t know anything?”

 

It was very clear from his mannerisms in this class that Adam really liked her. “I like your explanation better than the fact I’m just bad at it!” he said, grinning.

 

She shook her head fondly, still smiling. “ _Tu es leviculus.”_

 

“Gesundheit,” said Adam.

 

I was covering my mouth to hide my grin. “She said you’re silly,” I translated for him.

 

He pouted adorably. My goodness, between his sweet personality and stunning good looks, it seemed almost unfair about how perfect – wait, do I have to slap myself when I ascribe the term perfect to a non-vampiric entity? Well, better safe than sorry. Ow! All right, moving on – _blessed_ he was. “I don’t know how you understand all this,” he replied, lower lip protruding. Then he lit up. “I know! You should tutor me!”

 

I started feeling warmer. “Oh?” I managed, “Tutor? Of… of course I could.” I hoped I wasn’t blushing too terribly, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I was bright red. This was the best day ever! “That wouldn’t be a problem.”

 

Adam grinned, and I melted a little bit on the inside. “Great! Tuesdays after school in the library would be perfect for me! You?”

 

I nodded, feeling terribly lucky.

 

Everything was going wonderfully. I had a new friend in Pepper, I was getting closer to Brian and Wensleydale, and I was tutoring Adam. Alone. And oh yes, Anthony too. Mmmm.

 

As a result I was in a cheery mood when I made it home. As usual, my father was still at work. Unlike usual, the house wasn’t empty.

 

“Hi!”

 

I certainly did not scream in surprise, and I also certainly did not hit the intruder with my bag.

 

“Hey, hey!” Adramelech cooed, hands up and seemingly unaware that I had just attacked him. “I know I shouldn’t have let myself in, but I couldn’t help it. _There’s just so much to do!_ ”

 

I had to catch my breath. “Absolutely you should not have let yourself in!” I snapped back, embarrassed and angry. “How did you even break in?”

 

“Window upstairs,” he replied, blasé. “Anyway, I decided that today is the day! We’re going shopping. Any girlfriend of Crowley’s is going to dress fabulously, and besides, it’s always better to get prom dresses ahead of time instead of waiting until May! Not that I think you’re going to _buy_ a prom dress," I kid you not, he even gave a very condescending hand-wave at the word 'buy,' "because obviously we are going to _order_ one. Oh, let me rephrase this so you understand, ‘custom made dress for you, very pretty.’” I tried to interrupt, but he continued, “Really we’re going to more look for ideas, for fabrics you like or styles that look good on you, or what colours mesh well with your hair and skin.” He tsked as he looked me over. “Also, we’ll be buying you some conditioner. For volume. Your hair is so _stringy._ ” He pouted as he touched some of my curls with distaste. “Clean, but boring. That’s you in a nutshell, isn’t it? I guess I should have figured that’s the kind of girl that Crowley would finally pick, considering all the hot chicks that have thrown themselves at him over the years never caught his interest. Oh well, c’est la vie, we’ll make this work. So, leave everything here – don’t worry, this is all on my tab because I _love_ spending money!”

 

Yes, definitely insane. Like some sort of manic pixie.

 

I, hopefully not unreasonably, did not want to go in a car with him. In fact, if my life hadn’t been in danger I likely would have tried to evict him from the house in the anti-vampire “I hereby rescind my invitation” way. If that even worked…

 

So my options were thus: go shopping and hope all he really wanted to do was buy me clothes, or attempt to kick him out, earn his ire and find out the hard way if vampires needed permission to enter someone else’s home. While normally I would have liked to consider this in more detail, the fact of the matter was that my time was very limited, and so I took a risk by going with him. If I got eaten, well…

 

Hmmm…

 

"If you don't mind, I'd like to get a snack first," I said as cheerfully as possible. "It's been a long day already and I don't want to interrupt our shopping adventure!"

 

Clearly there was nothing in the world I could have said that would have been better received. "Oh! Of course! That's perfect! I mean it's awkward for me to stop to eat anyway considering I don't actually eat, so really you eating first saves both of us from me having to stare at you while you're having dinner! Great! I will-" He cut himself off as he glanced into the den with its umpteen thousand Bibles, "definitely not find a book to read, geez girl are you insane? Probably, it would figure, but okay, I'll go watch something on the telly and you let me know when you're ready to go!" He skipped into the living room and threw himself on the couch.

 

There, bought myself some time. Not a whole lot, and not enough to go through with any of my plans to get out of the situation, just enough time to try to make some precautionary measures.

 

Well, sort of.

 

My brilliant plan was fairly pathetic, in retrospect. What I did was make some chamomile tea and get out some crumpets, and bless them. Not that I was entirely sure how one goes about doing that, so my attempt was literally me staring at my snack and thinking, _Dear God, please let this be blessed by You so that if Adramelech decides to eat me, my blood will instead burn his throat like acid thanks to my having digested most of it by then. Also, please let the tea not be too sweet this time. Amen._

In deference to either my tea-making skills or my blessing skills, the tea was absolutely perfect - and I refuse to hit myself for calling perfect tea what it is. I hurriedly ate, wrote a note for my father to let him know I was going shopping with a friend (or, in this case, a "friend," but that's getting a little too detailed for a post-it note), and then called for Adramelech, and he happily got me into his car and drove us to London.

 

It actually wasn't a terribly awkward drive, from equal parts Adramelech's raw charisma and ability to have a conversation about absolutely anything, and part the fact that his car of choice was a 2013 Jaguar XE (I admit I wrote it down on my hand with a pen, that's how impressed I was) and I was rather in love with all the bells and whistles and the ability to take the top down. And, for the record, although I appreciated the quality of the car _I was not going to stalk him over it._ Just to prove that some of us _don't_ do that, and it's _not_ normal.

 

The actual shopping was a bit more awkward, mostly because Adramelech turned me into the world's only living mannequin. I mean to say, we tried on pretty much every kind of dress imaginable at one of those extremely expensive clothing stores before moving on to the next extremely expensive clothing store, and so on and so forth until he finally decided he'd found the perfect dress for me. Not only did we do this, but he talked - and I am not making this up - the entire time. On the plus side, I learned a few new things even if my ears ached.

 

In the end he decided that blue would be cliché and too common, so instead I was dressed in violet (apparently my eyes are purple in certain lights, which was news to me - then again, it's not like I look at them all the time). I tried to argue for straps, but he was having none of it. If you asked me, my breasts were too big for the neckline ("sweetheart" it's called, for whatever reason) and I wasn't a terribly big fan of the frilly skirt, but he said this was just the basis for the dress and he proceeded to drag me to a professional tailor to get it all ordered to my exact physical measurements.

When he dropped me back off at home, I was mentally exhausted from being around people all day, so I admit that I curled up in bed and fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Per my promise, when Saturday night came I went to Wensleydale's house with my laptop. His mum was very sweet and she made snacks too even though Brian brought some. After I introduced myself, Wensley led us to his living room, gesturing for me to take a large plush chair while he and Brian took the couch.

 

"We've been wanting to start a new game anyway," said Brian, grinning. "So you get to be the B-"

 

"No spoilers!" Wensley snapped quickly.

 

Brian quickly covered his mouth and nodded. Wensley continued, "The main character." He handed me a few CDs and I, confused by the title of the game, started to load it all anyway.

 

While the game installed, we talked small-talk about school and our families. When I loaded up the game with its dramatic-sounding theme, Brian said, "You get to decide what class you are, but hurry up so we can find ones that go with it!"

 

I wasn't sure what he meant, but after poking around my options, I finally said, "I think I'm going to be a mage. It sounds the most practical."

 

The boys nodded and hastily started clicking around. "Awesome," said Brian, "I was a paladin my first playthrough but that's cool too; I only wasn't a mage because I got creamed within the first five minutes. You'll see."

 

"You can't be a paladin this time, because I am," said Wensley reasonably.

 

Brian huffed. "You're _always_ a paladin. Try something new for once. Like a ranger. Have you ever been a ranger?"

 

"Have _you?_ "

 

With some clicks, Brian retorted, "I am now."

 

Wensley sighed and started some more clicking. "Okay, I'm a cleric. That way someone keeps us alive, and plus we get a thief early on…"

 

By the end of the session my elf mage, Brian's half-elf ranger and Wensley's gnome cleric had left our humble monastery home and liberated a mine from little creatures that weren't nearly as intimidating as the game implied them to be. My poor character had five hit-points and, unfortunately, when she died we had to restart from the last save, which meant it took us forever.

 

After we liberated the mine Brian had to leave, so I bid everyone adieu and went home as well. I wasn't too worried about future game nights; they were a little nonsensical, but harmless fun. I have no idea who made up the idea that video games promote devil-worship, but I think they're silly.

 

* * *

 

That night I woke up from my deep sleep to use the loo (yes, again; it's a quirk left over from my younger days when I used to wet the bed and become completely ashamed, so don't judge me!). I crawled out of my nice warm bed and kicked something hard on the floor.

 

Hard and cold.

 

On my floor.

 

In my bedroom.

 

"How clumsy are you?" Anthony demanded as if he was in the right in this particular situation, "I'm nowhere near the door!"

 

So perhaps I went a little bit mad. Perhaps I was so infuriated at the idea that Anthony was _in my room while I slept_ that I overreacted by attempting to bash his head in with a Bible. I'm sure you could make arguments in both of our defence.

 

Despite my best efforts, he is a super-fast killing machine and it didn't take him terribly long to get me into restraint from behind, prohibiting me from killing him. I would have started expressing my fury in screams except that would have woken my father up, and I'm sure that would have resulted in another lecture about prophylactics and I was disturbed enough as it was. "What are you doing!" I demanded in a hiss.

 

"Preventing you from killing me."

 

"No, I meant in my room, you wanker's arse!"

 

He paused at that. "I'm a what?"

 

"Shut the bloody fuck up you stupid Yankee tosser! What are you doing in my room!"

 

"Did… did you just call me a Yank?" He snickered and I would have kneed him in the groin if I had the leverage to do so. "I'm making sure you don't get smothered in your sleep or anything like that, woman, geez. Way to repay me for trying to keep your sorry arse alive."

 

I relaxed a little. Just a little. "There are other ways to do that!"

 

"By setting up a camera?" he suggested dryly. "Because that's so much better?"

 

I sighed, deflating, and he let go of me. I turned to face him, crossing my arms. "No, but this is completely wrong on so many levels. You, sir, are completely socially inept." _And incredibly pretty_ , my inner id added brightly.

 

To my surprise, that seemed to offend him more so than the other list of insults I'd given him. "Excuse me, I've been a perfect, outstanding member of society for centuries before you were born."

 

Honestly, I did not see the opportunity here when it appeared, but I at least subconsciously went for it. "Prove it."

 

He huffed a little. "I shouldn't have to, but fine. I will. Just be aware I am going to lord this over you forever."

 

"Sure, I'll believe it when it happens."

 

"Tomorrow night. I'll pick you up."

 

Then I kicked him out, but I certainly did not squeal in bed when I realised I'd essentially forced myself into getting date. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't sure if those squeals were those of shame ("I can't believe how rude my language was! My father would be ashamed of my failure to be a lady,"), pride ("I'm going out on a real date when _Anthony oh my goodness!")_ , or self-loathing ("He was stalking me, and had literally snuck into my room to watch me sleep, _why am I going on a date with him?"_ ).

 

Well, at least I knew that between Pepper and Adramelech that I would have something nice to wear.


	6. Chapter 6

Anthony's date location of choice was the Ritz of all places. Even when I'd lived in London I'd never been inside, and the fact that we were going _there_ was enough to make me completely ignore all the terrible implications of going on a date with him. I was finally going to the Ritz! _The Ritz!_

 

It was this fact that buoyed my spirits considerably despite schoolwork, worrying about vampires and keeping an eye on my father. Speaking of him, he was pleased for me but not as enthusiastic as I had expected, which spawned a host of questions in my mind: did he suspect something amiss, or was he put off by Anthony and his family? Or was this the typical "no father likes the man dating his daughter" sort of thing? When I tried to ask him what was wrong, he just smiled and gave me a hug, assuring me that nothing was the matter with him and he was happy for me. I wasn't convinced, but I also knew that poking him more wasn't going to help matters any.

 

All right, in retrospect, I just didn't want an excuse to not go. Don't judge me.

 

But first I had to get through the day, and that was going to be difficult. Thankfully I had other things to distract myself with: imagine if I made Anthony the entire focal point of my life! I would be awfully pathetic. By the time he showed up, I had done all of my homework, researched vampires online, read some Austen, made my father dinner, cleaned the entire house, dribbled some garlic on our threshold while silently chanting that Anthony wasn't allowed inside our home, and then found the best outfit I could; a little (but not too little!) black dress and a tartan cardigan. Simple, yet elegant. I hoped.

 

When I answered the door he was standing there in a tuxedo with a bouquet of roses, and I just about melted. He handed them to me even as he raised an eyebrow. "Tartan? Really?"

 

"Tartan is stylish," I protested, carrying the flowers in to find some sort of vase. We didn't have one, unfortunately, and I put them on the counter. "I'll find something for them when we get back."

 

"Eh, they don't need it. They know better." He was standing outside still, which filled me with a great sense of accomplishment.

 

It was my turn to treat him to an eyebrow raise. "They what?"

 

It was hard to tell what he was looking at with the sunglasses, but I was fairly sure he was smirking at the roses. I looked at them too; was it just me, or did they seem particularly scared? Wait, hadn't the last ones he'd given me had the same issue? "Never mind," he said dismissively. "Let's get going." He turned and sauntered out to his car, so I followed him.

 

He got in the driver seat of his car, a 1926 Bentley, and no he did not open my door for me. Well, there were limits to his ability to be a gentleman, but that was the point I was hoping to prove with this little venture anyway. I certainly wasn't just here for the date and a trip to the Ritz. No, not at all. "Very nice car," I said appreciatively, looking around. "I can't believe you've kept it in such good condition."

 

He turned it on and hit the gas, and before I knew it we were speeding down the road like it was actually the autobahn. I clung to my seat, feeling terrified. "What are you doing! The speed limit is 35!"

 

"Speed limits are for other people," he retorted with a grin. "Quit squeezing the seat; you'll ruin the leather."

 

 _I'm going to die,_ I thought. _I'm going to die because of this lunatic and no one will ever recognise my dead body because it will be charred beyond recognition. It wouldn't be so bad if it would kill him too, but technically he's already dead, and -_

He cut off my internal monologue by hitting the button to turn on the radio. The soothing voice of Freddie Mercury flowed through the car, and I felt a great sense of calm.

 

It's weird, isn't it, how something as simple as musical preferences can make you feel closer to someone. Yes Anthony was a vampire who was about a hundred years my elder, and he was exorbitantly rich and more than willing to stalk me over a car, but he liked Queen. All was well in the world. "Which is your favourite Queen song?" I asked, focusing my attention on the Blaupunkt rather than risk looking out the window.

 

He shrugged. "I could never choose just one. I'm more impressed that you know who Queen is."

 

I gasped, affronted. "Not only do I know Queen, I have this album too! And since you avoided the question, I'll answer it first - I love 'Under Pressure.'"

 

"Are you sure it's not 'Ice Ice Baby'?" he asked, smirking. I hit his arm; it was like hitting a rock, but I still felt a little better. "Fine, fine. I like 'Fat Bottomed Girls,' and I hate 'Bohemian Rhapsody.'"

 

I was about to point out that I could understand that - the line about Beelzebub was probably a downer if you lived with someone named Beelzebub - but the car squealed to a halt, cutting off my retort. I glanced out the window in morbid curiosity and realised we were in the parking lot of the Ritz. I felt a little sick as I managed to say, "We were in the car less than ten minutes."

 

He grinned.

 

"Also, don't they have valet?"

 

"As if I would let someone else drive my car." He got out and I followed suit. How had we avoided a speeding ticket? Madness. Maybe Satan's day job was the head of the police. That would be epically unfair.

 

When we got to the entrance, he held out his elbow rather gallantly and I took it. I certainly did not blush, because I am not that weak to displays of politeness and gentlemanly behaviour. We walked right in, bypassing the host.

 

The place was glorious, large and golden with crimson drapes and filled with antiques from ages past. I'd never been inside before this moment but I felt nostalgic, like this was a beautiful testament to the glory of London at the height of the Empire. I wanted to hide somewhere inside and never ever leave. There was a hotel attached, maybe I could squat in one of the rooms? Surely no one would notice, and I could keep it clean…

 

"You have to order your own food."

 

Anthony's voice knocked me out of my reverie. While I'd been gawking, he'd kept going straight to an empty reserved table near the window. Somehow I'd even ended up sitting. "Oh? Ah, er, yes. You're right." I took the menu and looked it over; dear lord, I couldn't afford any of this, and I didn't know what half of the food was. Was veal deer, or was that venison? I'd only ever had duck once, but it had been good… Oh dear. "Er, are you sure? Any recommendations?"

 

He shrugged, gesturing with a hand to the wait staff who swiftly brought over a bottle of wine. Clearly he'd been here often, the lucky wanker. He poured some for both of us as he said, "We can get different things so you can sample."

 

My curiosity was prompted again. "So what happens if you eat?"

 

"Nothing," he replied, sifting the wine. "It just sort of sits there. I don't get anything from it." When the waiter came to ask us for our orders, Anthony broke his promise by ordering for both of us; not that I minded, considering I had no idea what to get. "I can taste it though, so sometimes it's nice to try new food. Cuisine has come a long way from the 19th century."

 

"I wouldn't know." I glanced around the room, still drinking in the sight. How wonderful it would have been to come here when it first opened, to brush elbows with the rich and famous socialites!

 

"Is it really that impressive?" he asked quietly.

 

I nodded vehemently. "Oh, yes. Definitely. I always wanted to come in but my father always argued that it was far too extravagant to pay 50 pounds per person for a meal. As it is this is going to bankrupt me but I don't care because I'm finally here!"

 

He scoffed. "Oh don't even. I'm paying for it."

 

My face lit up. "Really? You don't have to…" I had to admit, though, I rather did want him to.

 

"If, and only if, we never mention the whole 'watching you while you sleep' thing again." He raised an eyebrow at me, clearly awaiting my response.

 

Oh, ouch. Lose that leverage, and have to forgo my righteous fury, in exchange for a 50-pound three-course meal at the Ritz… "Sounds good to me!" I said.

 

"Deal, then. Besides, now's a good time to discuss what to do about the Volturi."

 

I sighed. At least this time I wasn't the one bringing up vampire business. "I told you, you're being paranoid. Other than the car accident on Friday, I haven't had any exposure to danger, real or perceived. It was a fluke, not an attack." Dinner was served, and I started eating. It was, of course, delicious, and the rich tastes and the novelty of the experience helped my emotions in reinforcing the idea that I was safe. Not only was I safe, but I was at the Ritz, and it was _wicked awesome._

 

He did not look convinced at all by my optimism, and he ignored his food. If I thought there was merit to his worries, I would have been flattered. "Maybe I should move in with you," he said. After a beat, he amended, "Not that I care if you die or not, mind. But I don't want _me_ to get in trouble, and hiding you is the best way to keep _me_ safe."

 

He was too late. I was blushing horribly, staring at my wineglass. Move in with me? That was probably a terrible idea, but he'd suggested it, and he clearly hadn't meant to, which meant he wanted to, and really it made absolutely no sense if he was being honest about wanting to avoid getting into trouble considering he'd essentially be camping at the scene of the crime…

 

All right, in retrospect it's awfully dodgy. This was our first date and we'd only known each other for about a month. But there were extenuating circumstances! For example, he was buying me dinner at the bloody Ritz. He was also very pretty, and he'd saved my life, and he wanted to move in because he wanted to save my life more.

 

God I am superficial, aren't I. Please forgive me, I'm only a teenager.

 

Anyway, now I was equal parts touched and confused. If he was trying to court me, he was doing an awful job. Well, I suppose it was up to me to set things right… If I could gather the mental fortitude… All right, here goes. I took a deep breath, and said, "You know, if you wanted to actually really date rather than pretend-date, I wouldn't be adverse."

 

He was deathly (ha ha, get it?) silent, and I hazarded a glance up at him only to realise that he wasn't even focused on me at all. Instead, he was completely rigid, looking out at something else. I was half offended and half curious, so I glanced around the restaurant; I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. "What's wrong?"

 

He didn't respond to my question, instead muttering for me to be quiet. I pouted. There went the mood, and him returning to being an arse who doesn't tell me anything unless I use extortion. Perhaps it was for the best he hadn't heard my "confession."

 

I wasn't left in the dark for much longer, however, when a handsome man walked over to our table. He was a little shorter than Anthony, with short-cropped brown hair and, most noticeably, beautiful deep burgundy eyes. Judging from the way Anthony had tensed up, I figured this man was also a supernatural creature of some sort; he wasn't half as pretty as the vampires I knew were, but by no means was he ugly, either. The man was smirking confidently, and it was something I did not find comforting at all. I averted my glance; there was a woman at the table he'd come from, and she was ethereally gorgeous with flowing red hair, much richer in colour than Pepper's. She did not look pleased that her date was visiting us.

 

"Hello," the man said, addressing Anthony in an American accent. "How's dinner?"

 

"Delayed," Anthony replied curtly. "You're walking on someone else's property."

 

The man merely grinned, and I noticed he made no effort to hide his sharp teeth. "I'm checking in now, unless you don't qualify as a member of the bureaucracy here."

 

"If you step on someone's toes, I'm not the one you have to worry about," he said, and I noticed his body was coiled, ready to spring at any second. He was nervous, and as a result I was starting to become terrified. I dug my fingernails into my arm to focus on pain and calm myself down. Don't show weakness, don't show weakness… "Make your way to Lower Tadfield."

 

The stranger waved that away with a hand. "I know. I'm here on official business, not as a freelancer. Besides, even if I wasn't, your... group… isn't hidden well at all."

 

"We have nothing to hide from." Anthony pushed his omnipresent shades further up his face. "If you've got something to say, do it and quit wasting my time."

 

He grinned broadly, and it was about as comforting as being in a pit of smiling, starving crocodiles. "My name is James. I just wanted to properly introduce myself before we begin business." He looked at me, and I felt chills up and down my spine. He didn't say a word, he just looked. He took a deep breath through his nose and grinned at Anthony. "I'll leave you alone now. Nice meeting you."

 

"Yeah," said Anthony, and it was very obvious from his tone that he meant the exact opposite.

 

James walked away with sure steps, going to sit back at his table with his date. Even when they were across the room Anthony did not calm down. "Talk quietly or not at all," he said tersely.  

 

"What the bloody hell was that about?" I demanded in a whisper.

 

"I don't know. We don't get a lot of official business." He shrugged casually, apparently pretending that he hadn't just been obviously unnerved. "It's probably nothing."

 

I groaned. "You may as well just have said 'I have a bad feeling about this.' We're in trouble, aren't we?"

 

Anthony's long slender fingers were tapping on the table. "No," he said at length. "You're just being paranoid."

 

"Hey, you-"

 

"Besides, all I could feel from him was that he was hungry and wants to go hunting. As if his eyes didn't give that away… Point is, he didn't want anything from me."

 

"His eyes?" I asked. "Oh, they were technically red, darker than your, ah, coven members; does the colour mean he was hungry? So your and Adramelech's eyes aren't red because you've recently eaten?" Ugh, I did not want to give that too much thought.

 

"No, red means he eats humans. The fact that they were dark means he's hungry."

 

That I had no problem thinking about even as I finally started eating again. The fact that the two least-evil vampires wouldn't eat humans made plenty of sense, and it likely helped explain why Anthony wore tinted glasses - so his fellow vampires couldn't see that he didn't prey on people. Aww. I considered pointing out what a terrible vampire he was, but refrained. "That is a very odd system."

 

"I didn't make it up."

 

"So your eyes are gold because you don't eat humans, correct?" He was about to interrupt, but I remembered at that moment the incident a week or so back and amended, "Wait, actually, you do eat people."

 

"They taste terrible," he said, and the reminder of taste drew my eyes back to the table. Dessert had been served already: strawberries with crème fraîche mousseline and buttermilk sorbet. I was drooling already. I'm sure Anthony kept talking, because the boy loves the sound of his own voice, but I ignored him in favour of sweets as I reached over and dragged the concoction towards myself. "Hey!" he protested as I started sampling all the parts. "I can't believe you just stole my dessert!"

 

"Oh hush," I told him, and I felt no shame because it was _just that good_ , "It's not like you eat anyway."

 

"I already told you I can taste it!"

 

"But it doesn't benefit you at all, you already said that, and it really does benefit me."

 

"Like you need the benefit." I decided to ignore that crack at my weight because I was too busy enjoying a delicious, decadent dessert. He pouted, but apparently didn't feel like arguing anymore. "Anyway, my point was that sometimes humans really deserve to get killed, no matter how bad they taste." He was scowling, and I wasn't convinced it was over my respectful borrowing of his dessert anymore. Considering he was a murderous undead beast and my ride home, I decided to not ask more issues along this line.

 

"I always wondered why supernatural predators target humans anyway," I said as cheerfully as possible. He rolled his eyes - I couldn't see them but I could just tell he had - but I continued, "I mean, we're not prey animals and comparatively speaking we have little meat on our bones. We're of a terrible nutritional value, so clearly other animals would be better for sustenance anyway, not to mention far easier to get a hold of. But regardless, if you're going to hunt for your food, I recommend the wild strawberries with crème fraîche mousseline and buttermilk sorbet."

 

"Oh, so you're going to share?"

 

"Get your own."

 

He laughed, and I felt much better.

 

The rest of the evening passed in this way - idle talk, the occasional joke and snarky comment, and my stomach filled with deliciousness. He paid and took me home, bade me goodnight and didn't offer or ask for a kiss. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or offended. So, did I consider him a gentleman? If I had to rank him between a 1 for "not at all" and a 10 for "James Bond-level gent," I would maybe give him a 6. It would have been a 4 except the food was great and that bumped his score up considerably. Not terrible, for the undead.

 

* * *

 

Tuesday after school I met with Adam in the library to go over Latin. "How do you know all this stuff, anyway?" he asked, pouting after I corrected a grammatical error on his homework for the fifth time.

 

Goodness he was adorable. I was torn between wanting to throw myself on him or pinch his cheeks. "I collect Bibles, and a good deal of them are written in Latin. So my command of the language isn't great, but I do know a bit more than the average teenager."

 

"Eh." He flipped the pages in the textbook. "I don't like that religious stuff, no offense. It kind of makes me feel sick. It's hard to explain."

 

It all clicked in my mind at that exact instant. Adam could boss around Mr Ligur without consequences. He was attractive, almost supernaturally so. And he didn't like religious things.

 

"You're a vampire!" I blurted out.

 

The look he gave me was pure concentrated _what_. "Huh? Are you kidding? Because you don't look like you are."

 

His incredulity threw me off a bit, and I found myself gazing at my textbook so I wouldn't have to look at him. "I was kidding," I murmured, although of course I hadn't been. It was too _right_. "I don't suppose you're adopted, though?" I laughed a little, trying to lighten the mood. "Then it would be perfect. You could be a vampire and not know it."

 

He was clearly not finding this funny at all. "I am adopted," he said, scowling. "How did you know?"

 

I had trouble meeting his glare; his blue-eyed glare, so I was wrong anyway, stupid me. "I don’t!" I protested weakly, hating the fact that he was probably hating me, "Honestly, I was just, just throwing it out there… I mean… I, ah… I'm sorry, I was just…"

 

At length he sighed. "My parents never said anything, but I don't really look like them, you know what I mean? Or my sister, I don't look like her either. And my dad's told me plenty of times that I don't act like him, even when he was my age. I asked my mum once and she said I wasn't, that I was born in a hospital run by nuns, but that place burned down years ago… and…" He wasn't looking at me, but I was watching him. The poor thing looked a little sick. "There's this guy in town. I don't know his name, I just know he works in the courthouse, I saw him there once when we went on a field trip. He looks just like me, 'cept older. I'm thinking he may be my real brother, or something, I don't know."

 

I patted his hand. "Well, biological brother. Your parents are your real family, even if you may be adopted."

 

"Yeah," he muttered, and I swear it seemed like the entire library was dimming just from his palpable sadness. From how cheery he usually was, who would have guessed he'd be so sad and questioning his identity? "I just wish they'd be honest with me, y'know? I don't like having to guess."

 

"I completely understand," I said.

 

"No you don't, but thanks."

 

"Actually, I don't know if I'm adopted or not either," I admitted. He looked up, and I continued, "My father and I are alike, yes, but he's never mentioned any possible mother for me, and unless he's capable of asexual reproduction…"

 

"Huh." He looked a little sheepish. "So you're in the same boat as me, then. Well, don’t I feel dumb, preachin' to the choir and all that."

 

I shook my head. "No, you don't sound dumb. You're just saying things that I've thought before. It's frustrating to me that my father won't tell me flat-out if he's my real one or not." I smiled at him as best I could. "I don't like having to guess."

 

He smiled too. "He's your real dad, even if you may be adopted. So, uh, Ms. Nutter put this on the test we got back… so, what does _concido_ mean?"

 

"I think it means you failed."

 

"Aw maaaaaan…"

 

* * *

 

 

The next couple of weeks were fairly typical. We were nearing Christmas, so homework was easing up even if all the tests were being crammed in to get done before the end of the semester. I was lined up to get all As except for possibly maths, so I found myself spending a ridiculous amount of time studying for the calculus examination. I continued to meet Adam on Tuesdays, and Brian and Wensleydale on Saturday evenings (my elven mage captured a dangerous fugitive driven mad by an evil sword, infiltrated a bandit organization and killed more spiders than one ever ought to). Pepper and I went Christmas shopping for everyone, so my gifts were picked out early. My father and I tag-teamed the house to get all of our decorations up early, expertly utilizing his collection of adorable thematic plushies. Anthony did not move into my house, nor did he seem too upset with the Christmas time celebration, and I'm not sure if that's a scathing remark on the religiosity of the holiday or his love of receiving presents trumping any vampiric weaknesses.

 

I gave my gifts to my friends on the last day of school. Christmas day I spent in with my father, and we exchanged presents (he got me a Chaucer that was old enough to crumble in my hands, and I squealed in joy) before settling in for a calm day with good books, a warm fire, and delicious masala chai (it tastes like Christmas, I swear).

 

The day after Christmas, my father went back to work and Anthony showed up, wanting to show me something. The fact that he was clearly uncomfortable with the idea made me even more excited to see whatever it was. When I glanced out the door, however, I had to notice that he hadn't brought his car. "Uh oh. What happened to the Bentley?"

 

"I'm performing an update on her," he replied, looking cross. "She needs plenty of love and care to run as well as she does, so I don't use her for everything."

 

"You know," I replied, a little smirk on my face, "with a name like Bentley, wouldn't she be a boy?"

 

His scowl deepened. "Shut up."

 

I giggled, fondly recalling the first time we met. "Well, if nothing else, don't you have other cars?"

 

I couldn't see his eyes through his shades but I knew him well enough by now to know he'd just rolled them. "This way saves petrol; I hate the smell of the stuff. Hop on." He turned his back to me.

 

I could feel my face heat up. He wanted me to ride him piggy-back? "How rude," I sniffed, trying to hide my embarrassment.

 

He sighed. "It's faster. Just hop on."

 

I took a deep breath, walked out of the house and locked the door before coming up behind him, wrapping my arms around his chest and holding on tightly. He slung his arms under my knees and took off at a sprint.

 

Well, "sprint" doesn't really define exactly what he was doing. It was what I imagine it must be like to ride a race car whilst clinging to the roof. I don't think I screamed the entire time, but no guarantees. I hazarded an eye open and soon saw that, judging from the blurring, Anthony ran faster than he drove, and we were going through a forest.

 

I figured I was going to die, but then again it seems to be a common theme when he provides my transportation.

 

When he came to a stop, it took me a few seconds to recognize we weren't moving anymore. He put me down, and I got my first good look at a little piece of Heaven on Earth: Anthony's greenhouse.

 

It was glorious. It had everything from roses to fruit trees to its own honeybee farm. Not a single leaf in the bunch had so much as a brown spot on it; it was verdant paradise. "Oh, wow," I breathed. "You grow these yourself? This is beautiful!"

 

He, in turn, was staring at the plants with a scowl on his face. "Yessss," he said, and the plants quivered. "I discovered that if you talk to plantssss they grow faster and better."

 

Oh. I got it now. "Ah. I see. You… 'talk' to them." I wasn't sure why I was surprised. Of course he would threaten plants. I almost laughed; it seemed perfectly in character for him. He was adorable! "Can I pick one?"

 

He went silent and still before nodding. I beamed and walked to one that had stuck out at me: a blue rose. An actual blue rose. No, blue roses are not plants that occur naturally, or at all, and yet here one was. It was a deep beautiful cerulean, and I had no idea how he'd managed to do it but I didn't care because it was perfect.

 

As I smelled it, I felt an odd sensation, like an out-of-body experience. I wondered if it was some sort of odd nostalgia (although for what?) until I realised that no, I actually _couldn't move._   My body was completely still, the rose on my nose.

 

Then I noticed the man standing in the doorway to the greenhouse. "Oh, Crowley, what have you done?" he asked affably, but his eyes were a searing crimson.

 

Oh, buggerall. So this was Satan.


	7. Chapter 7

Paralysis is an odd feeling. My nerve endings were still working, but I could feel my limbs slowly go numb and tingly as my blood slowed down in my veins. My heart was pounding but nothing was going through it. This was the kind of thing I likely wouldn't have known was happening if I didn't know that this man, with his handsome features, aura of confidence, deep crimson eyes and straight black hair, had to be Satan, leader of this vampire coven. I may have thought I was having a heart attack or a stroke, but I knew who he was and thus I knew that he was controlling my blood, slowing it down so that I couldn't move or act or otherwise do anything he didn't want me to. It was subtle, which told me that he had his suspicions but wasn't certain that I knew anything he didn't want me to know.

 

Essentially, my life was in Anthony's hands. If he let it slip that I knew about vampires, Satan would be perfectly in his right to kill me. If he managed to convince his boss that there was nothing wrong with this situation, then Satan would likely act as if nothing had happened. The thought was not a comforting one, but my body was slowly shutting down and it made little difference how I felt now.

 

"Done, sir?" asked Anthony with some charisma - he was clearly nervous, but he'd always gotten wary at the topic of his boss before, so that could be how he always reacted to him. "I'm just showing my classmate my incredible botany skills. Aziraphale, this is my, uh, foster father." I squeaked in reply because I couldn't talk, but I decided it be best to attempt some politeness to go along with him; technically speaking, he was telling the truth, after all. I shouldn't act afraid, because then he would know that I knew… but it was hard to act calm when I was dying… except that it was hard to act _anything_ with blood no longer flowing to my brain. This wasn't going to last long. "Uh, Dad, this is Aziraphale, my classmate. She likes flowers, so I thought I'd show her my greenhouse. That's all. Then uh, we were going to do homework."

 

Satan was suspicious, that much was certain, but he also wasn't glancing in my direction, as if I was far beneath his notice. Despite this, I could feel my body start to warm up again as it my blood began behaving regularly. I almost started crying in relief, although my heart and head began pounding and it became hard to not vomit.

 

"I see," said Satan smoothly, unconcerned when I dropped to my knees. "A business associate of mine was concerned you were telling classified information about my business practices."

 

"Never, sir."

 

"Of course. You know better, yes?"

 

"Yes, sir."

 

He turned and started walking away, glancing at me thoughtfully. "You don't look well," he said before leaving the area.

 

I was able to catch my breath, but it's probably for the best that words were a bit beyond my capabilities because I could have said something incriminating. I was lucky. So, so lucky.

 

Anthony helped me sit up. "Well, that went better than expected," he muttered, looking me over. "Usually he just kills people. You got lucky."

 

"Wonder why he didn't kill me," I muttered, only because speaking normally was still a bit beyond me. I really felt ill, but everything was slowly coming back. "You know what? I don't even care. Huzzah."

 

He sat back, looking thoughtful. "I actually have to agree with you for once. You're right. Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially since this particular gift horse has a tendency to painfully murder things."

 

"You know, there's a class of vampires that are nice and friendly. Why can't your family be _that_ kind?"

 

He scoffed, helping me stand up. "Those kinds are pansies. We're way cooler. Ugh, you do look awful. Want me to take you home?"

 

I nodded. "If nothing else, your 'foster father' isn't allowed in my house, so there's that."

 

He looked awkward. "He's not really my foster father, but I don't think average students have coven leaders, so I made it up." He picked me up. "All right, let's get you home. Your dad’s a doctor, right? He can take care of you and all that. I’ll take you home in one of my other cars. Don’t need to be too obvious about this.” He walked us out of the greenhouse, past a garage filled with luxury cars (“Those are mostly Belial’s, although Adramelech borrows them on occasion”) towards one with fewer but more carefully stored older models. He picked one I didn’t recognise and placed me in the front seat.

 

“What on earth is this?”

 

“It’s the first car I ever owned: a 1918 Model T. I bought it as a present to myself for being turned into a vampire,” he said with no lack of pride, “I have a few which are older, but they don’t quite have the sentimental value. Plus they’re way harder to drive. Seriously, some of these are basically bicycles.”

 

Another time and place I may have been more interested, but my head was throbbing and I wanted to curl up on the couch. “That’s lovely.”

 

He got in and drove me home, which was delightfully uneventful. He didn’t say a word, which I was thankful for, and when he parked in the driveway he carried me to the door. “Uh, this is where I stop.”

 

I was starting the feel better, but I wasn’t entirely sure what he was talking about. “Oh? Hang on.” I unlocked the door and opened it. “I’ll get you some tea. It’s the least I can do.”

 

“Er. I’m not allowed in.”

 

Well, on the plus side it was nice to know he needed explicit permission to come in. On the other hand, now I felt guilty for going through all the effort to evict him. I looked at him, smiled, and said, “Come on in.”

 

As if to make me regret my kindness, he sauntered right past me. I was in too good of a mood to take his bait, however, so I just followed him in.

 

“Question for you,” he said as he sat at the kitchen table like he lived here, “why did you come over anyway?”

 

“Pardon?” I started making green tea. I needed some energy back.

 

“Before, when you showed up at my house with more holy items than the Spanish Inquisition?”

 

“Because nobody expects it,” I snarked back.

 

He paused, considering this. “It should stop surprising me when you invoke nerd references. It really should.”

 

“By all means, please keep being surprised. It makes me feel better.”

 

“But anyway, seriously, why? It’s finally _my_ turn to ask _you_ questions, and I haven’t been able to figure that out.”

 

I looked back, trying to remember why I’d done it. This was before the incident with the truck, so that wasn’t it… what had it been… “Oh, yes, it was because you were having a day terror of sorts, in class, and I realised that if I wanted to be able to help you, I needed to be ‘in the know’ so to speak.” He looked embarrassed. "Oh, don’t be so shy! You've had a traumatic life, it's understandable that occasionally that would get to you."

 

It took him awhile to answer me; long enough that I was incredibly suspicious. "Yes," he said. "Definitely."

 

"Anthony."

 

He looked away, drinking tea. "You make some good tea."

 

"Thank you. Now, what aren't you telling me?" I was starting to feel incredibly ill, like I needed to curl up and nap for awhile. However, his horrific lying skills were making me suspicious, and I decided I was not going to let this go. Either he would tell me, or I would pass out. There were no other options. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't entirely sure which was going to happen first.

 

"Nothing. You really look awful. You should probably go to sleep."

 

That sounded lovely. It really did. "No, you're not telling me… something… about that day…"

 

All right, I passed out. The wanker won that round, although when I woke up a few hours later the first thing I did was write down a mental note to somehow pry the information out of him. He was embarrassed about that incident for reasons that had little to do with his machismo, so what could it be?

 

It was also humbling, in a way, to know that there were things he wouldn't tell me. A better person would have left the issue alone, allowing him his privacy, but since it involved me, it wasn't something I was going to allow him to keep to himself.

 

Regardless, hours later I woke up and felt far better. I had been placed on the couch and I was curled up with numerous pillows and blankets, and a delicious aroma was filling the room. The hum from the kitchen gave away the fact that my father was home and making a meal. Thank goodness, I say, because as far as such things go, he’s a far better chef than I am and I honestly wish he would cook more often. I stretched and placed both feet on the floor, although the lack of something made me confused. Something was missing. There was a change, I just knew it, but I couldn’t put my finger on it... Or my toes on it. Ah ha. I stared down at my foot, sitting as per usual in its cast complete with a few signatures. I pushed it into the carpet, and was not rewarded with shooting pains or agony or any of that. Oh. I’d been so busy lately I hadn’t even noticed that my foot was fine again. It didn’t seem terribly right to me that a cross bolt wound could be healed in a few months, but I’ll be honest about how little that bothered me. “I think my cast is ready to come off!”

 

My father poked his head back into the living room, his eyes wide and smile broad. “Oh, good! I’ve been worried about that, it pains me to see you hurt in any way. I suppose it’s the curse of being a doctor. We’ll take you in tomorrow and get it removed. In the meantime, now that you’re awake from your nap it’s time for dinner.”

 

We ate supper, spent the rest of the evening in, and then the next day before school we went to the clinic and my father removed my cast, exposing my poor little shrivelled toes to the world. At the time I was relieved to get my foot back, even considering the fabulous scar I now sported, but later that day I would truly regret the timing of the healing.

 

* * *

 

Sergeant Shadwell was deathly serious as he stood between us and an absurd amount of cardboard boxes. He hadn't even spoken and already I was beginning to lament my lack of excuses for not participating in whatever he had planned. From the looks of my classmates, the only ones who seemed at all interested were Adam and Brian.

 

I shan't attempt to restate his words as honestly I'm not sure what language he was truly speaking - unless I missed the memo where Scotwelirishsenile became a language - and so I shall translate: we were going witch hunting, and in the boxes were camouflage uniforms and assorted weaponry specifically designed for the maximum detainment of witches. No, I have no idea why Shadwell is so interested in witches, nor do I wish to know. He was rambling about the Bible, I think, and as far as I know the Bible only mentions witches once and that is, in my personal opinion, not a good reason to become obsessed with them… But what do I know? Certainly not as much as Sergeant Shadwell, of course not!

 

As I grabbed a crossbow I put serious consideration into shooting myself in the foot again, but I refrained when I saw just how excited the aforementioned boys were. "This is the best physical education class _ever_ ," Brian gushed as he pulled the camouflage over his clothes.

 

"How is he getting away with giving students weaponry?" Wensleydale asked doubtfully, looking at his prospective hunting uniform with disgust.

 

Pepper sighed as she resigned herself and got changed. "He's married to the principal, remember?"

 

"That's hardly a good reason to permit this sort of thing," I muttered, pulling the camouflage over my own gym uniform, "it's really not. Someone should contact the authorities."

 

"Aww but whyyy?" Adam whined, "This is awesome! We're actually going to do something totally bizarre and for no adequately explained reason! _This is the best day ever!"_

 

"My main concern is what we're going to do if we actually find a witch," said Wensleydale. "First of all, apparently you find one by knowing how many nipples it has. Are we going to kindly ask any suspicious people to flash us? That doesn't seem… legal."

 

"I like that idea," said Brian wistfully.

 

Wensleydale continued, waving a piece of paper, "Even going by the list of potential witches he's passed out, we'd still have to ask to see Ms Device's nipples and even if that were legal, I imagine she'd fail all of us."

 

I scoffed at the idea that he had a list, taking the laminated piece of paper from Wensleydale and looking it over for myself. It was an exceptionally long list populated by a good deal of women in the town, most of whom I had never heard of; as alluded to, Ms Device was on there, as was Ms Nutter, and even Madame Tracey Potts-Shadwell was on there with the footnote of _Jezebel._ Very peculiar. I was thankful to note that my name wasn't on it, but I wouldn't be surprised if it ended up on there after graduation.

 

Regardless, there was one oddball name that stuck out at me more so than the others: Crazy pansy who runs the new fashion boutique down the road from the City Hall.

 

Back in London if I were treated to a name like that I wouldn't have been so concerned. However, in a tiny town like this, and given what I knew of Mr Shadwell, I could infer that "crazy pansy" was probably Adramelech. Who else could it be, even if I did think he was more of a fairy than a witch? And knowing what I did about Adramelech, it wouldn't surprise me one bit to learn he owned a fashion boutique, although it must have been recently opened or else he would have taken me to visit back when he "kidnapped" me. Interesting.

 

Pepper looked at the list next. "Oh, I know that guy, the crazy pansy. My sister likes his boutique." Yes, of course. Her sister. Absolutely. "We can go question him."

 

The three boys looked put-out at that. "Why do we have to go see the only guy on the whole list?" Brian asked, pouting. "I don't want to see _his_ nipples."

 

Adam said something but disguised it as a cough. I wasn't sure what it was, but clearly Brian could at least infer because he tackled Adam and the two started to scuffle. Meanwhile, Wensleydale had brightened a little. "That's not quite as illegal, right?" he asked hopefully.

 

"Probably not," I said, reasoning that men were allowed to walk around shirtless. Regardless, I could honestly attest that Adramelech was not a witch, no matter his quirks. "It sounds like as good a place to start as any." Besides, maybe I could find out if my prom dress was in yet.

 

"Oh wait," said Pepper, flipping the paper over, "there's instructions on the back." Her eyes skimmed the paper and then she made a face before thrusting the paper at Adam.

 

He looked it over and made a similar face. "Oh Lord. He recommends we paint our faces with mud and then bathe in witch pee for maximum camouflage."

 

"Ewww," we all said as a group.

 

"I recommend we don't do that," Wensleydale said, shuddering.

 

"What the hell does he think we're hunting?" Brian demanded rhetorically.

 

Regardless, eventually the five of us left as a coordinated pack, each in our camouflage and with assorted anti-witch weaponry, but we remained completely dry. I felt utterly absurd but none of the townsfolk seemed perplexed at all; I reasoned to myself that this likely wasn't Mr Shadwell's first year of teaching, so he probably had classes going on real witch-hunts every year. It really made me miss London.

 

The school was down a gravel path, and at the other end of the path was Main Street. Every major building was off Main Street with City Hall directly in the middle of town, so it was a quick and easy walk to the boutique. The place was called _The Fabulous Peacock_. I expected the exterior to be bedazzled, but alas it was a simple, normal-looking building. I imagine that it would take time to become appropriately glittered. I wouldn't have even been convinced it could be a place associated with Adramelech, except for the name.

 

Pepper went in first. "Oy! Pansy!"

 

Adramelech, fixing up his cash register, sighed dramatically. "I didn't think you were supposed to greet witches so forthright," he said fondly.

 

"You've had other witch hunters?" Brian asked even as the other boys snooped around.

 

"Oh please. Apparently your school has never seen a man who likes fashion before."   His chuckle was melodic as he brushed a stray lock of dark hair behind his ear. He saw me and his look brightened. "Oh! Hello Aziraphale, it's nice to see you!" The words _I wasn't sure you would still be alive after yesterday_ remained unsaid, but yet I knew they were there. "Crowley's been worried about you." Awwwww. "Oh, and I have your prom dress!"

 

Approximately an hour later we left the shop dazed and with me carrying my new sparkly purple gown. "I don't know what he is," said Adam, "so I'm not saying he's human, but he's not a witch."

 

I considered outing him, but I decided to go with my more appropriate diagnosis. "Fairy."

 

Agreeing with that assessment, we headed back to class.

 

* * *

 

When I got home after school I was surprised to find that the door was unlocked. After the initial terrified moment of wondering who had broken in, I went inside and discovered that my father was home early, and that he'd managed to get Anthony to make tea while he made dinner. I felt like a terrible girlfriend when I realised that I hadn't noticed he wasn't in school today.

 

My father turned and beamed at me, and I saw the faux friendly façade, the same one he'd adopted with Adramelech, fade from his face. "Welcome home, Zizi! Look who came to visit me. Isn't he such a polite young man?"

 

Having thought the exact opposite of him on many occasions, I merely shrugged as I put down my book-bag. "But why are you home so early?"

 

"Well, I heard through the grapevine that a certain someone had skipped school today," dear Lord did he have Anthony bugged? "so I thought this would be an excellent time to talk to him about his life, and also to set down some ground rules." Although my father's tone didn't alter in the slightest, clearly Anthony picked up the implication because he looked at me with an expression of pure horror.

 

I almost felt sorry for him, except he'd skipped school. Karma. Also, if I survived Satan, Anthony could certainly survive Raphael Swan. Equal but opposite forces.

 

Anyhow, so I got to sit and drink tea while the two bustled about. "Did you tell him how we met?" I asked Anthony.

 

My father answered, "Why yes he did, and I told him all about how the vehicle he coveted is really mine and how it's a family heirloom and how my Zizi would never, ever sell it."

 

Anthony poured me a cup of tea with a haunted look on his face, and I almost laughed. My father was one of those types who could do absolutely nothing of evil intent, never once hint that he would destroy you, and yet deep down you knew that going against him was a bad idea. He hadn't quite mastered the art of the raised eyebrow, like my uncle Gabriel has, but he doesn't need it. Granted, I'd never dated before, so this was my first experience with my father threatening one of my suitors and it was interesting to see.

 

We ate dinner soon thereafter, since the two had been making that as well. I could tell from the taste that it had been my father's handiwork, which wasn't surprising as he was defensive of his kitchen. That was fine by me, since I couldn't very well trust a vampire's cooking skill. After dinner my father went to watch the news, leaving the two of us alone to get our homework done together.

 

"Your father is so nice it scares me," he said bluntly once his topic was out of earshot. It made me giggle. "What! At least with Satan you know he'd be happy to kill you. With your dad I can't really tell and I think that makes it worse."

 

"Poor thing. Now you know to not skip school."

 

He snorted. "If I had known how things would turn out, I would never have gone in the first place."

 

"Aww, don't say that," I said, spreading out my homework. I had far too much to get done tonight, which was a pain. "Why, if you hadn't come to school, I would have never been inspired to visit your house, because you would never had gotten ill." Yes, I was provoking him, and I made sure he knew it by deliberately poking him.

 

He took in a deep unnecessary breath and then let it out slowly. "I faked it."

 

I don't know what I had expected, but it wasn't that. "You faked a day terror?"

 

He was staring at the table. "Yep. I thought you would sell me your car if you felt bad for me and my troubled angsty life. That did not work out as like I had hoped it would."

 

I wasn't sure what to think. Yes, it had been months ago, but it stung. He'd tempted me to give him my stupid bloody car. He'd _faked_ what I had thought was either a _panic attack_ or a _seizure!_   I'd been so worried about him I stormed a home filled with vampires just to make sure he was okay! And it had all been a _lie_!

 

_For my goddamn car!_

 

"You don't have to yell," he said, and I realised belatedly I had been saying all this out loud.

 

"Yes I do!" I snapped back. "You're insane! You are completely batshit insane! Get out of my house!"

 

"What?" He stood up, looking surprised. "You can't be serious-"

 

"I said _get out!_ "

 

To both of our surprises, the door swung open and he was flung through it as if thrown by a strong wind. The door slammed shut behind him. I was too busy being infuriated to even find that awesome.

 

"Oh Zizi, you have your uncle's temper," said my father, who had poked his head in after the door slammed shut. I ignored him and stormed up to my room for some chocolate and Adele.


	8. Chapter 8

Despite myself I was a little depressed. In 30 years I would have to say "My first boyfriend was a manipulative stalker vampire in love with my car," and the vampire part wasn't even metaphorical! To make it worse, he had been my fake boyfriend before my real one, and the jury was out on if he'd ever been real to begin with.

 

And, well, perhaps I missed the eye candy and had grown used to the oddity.

 

Ugh, maybe I had overreacted. Or maybe I had under-reacted. I'm sure that if I told my story to someone else, they would likely judge me for having been in a relationship with Anthony in the first place. Or not being in a relationship at all, as it were.

 

Well, when in doubt or when faced with a difficult decision, I always advocate making a list of pros and cons. This is what I came up with:

 

Pros: Pretty, rich, saved my life

 

Cons: jerk, stalker, psychotic family, autophiliac (was that even a word?)

 

Looking over my new list, I decided to give myself a few days of pondering before I did anything rash. I also told myself that I would actually brainstorm more things to add to the list, because right now it was woefully insufficient. Otherwise I really was just terribly shallow.

 

Oh well. Life goes on.

 

* * *

 

During Latin lessons after school on Tuesday, Adam seemed about as cheery as I felt. "Sorry, my heart's really not in this today," he said, his mouth a perfect frown. "It was a nasty weekend."

 

I put my textbook into my bookbag in acknowledgement that we weren't going to get much done. "Do you want to talk about it?"

 

He considered this. "Well, I guess… If you promise not to tell anyone."

 

"Of course I won't."

 

"My sister got a parking ticket so my dad went with her to City Hall," he began. "I went too 'cause I was bored. And remember how I said there was a guy there who looked like me?"

 

My heart sank. "Yes."

 

Adam nodded, looking pained. "He's the Judge. My dad now thinks that bloke's my real dad and my mum had an affair. They spent all weekend fighting." He shuddered a little. "I've never seen them fight before! My dad's normally so calm…"

 

I had no choice but to hug him. "Let's go see him," I blurted without thinking. "The Judge, I mean. Let's go talk to him!"

 

He looked up, calmer. "And say what?"

 

Admittedly I hadn't thought that far ahead. "And… uh… I suppose we ask him about his family. Maybe you're a distant relative, or maybe it's a fluke. But we ought to find out the truth."

 

He grinned. "Yeah, let's go!"

 

* * *

 

We linked elbows as we walked to City Hall and my heart was aflutter. My relationship with Adam was becoming more complicated, and I wasn't sure how to classify it, especially in light of my newfound single status.

 

Ugh, since moving to Lower Tadfield I'd turned a little boy crazy. I put it out of my mind; it was unnecessary and a waste of my mental capabilities.

 

Anyhow, City Hall didn't have the security of one in a larger city so we were able to walk right in. I wondered at the logic of this, at least until we found the Judge's office. The name on his desk read Samuel Louis, but I recognised him as the leader of Anthony's coven.

 

Certainly a vampire who calls himself Satan had no need of a security system.

 

My body went into flight mode, and it took all of my willpower to not run away. Instead I steeled myself, and distracted myself by comparing the two men in the room. Different hair, different eyes colours, but the same bone structure and the same eye shape. They were not twins, but the resemblance was uncanny.

 

Adam had rediscovered his backbone, which was good since that meant at least one of us would be able to talk. "Hey. I'm Adam. Lots of people say we look alike so I said, y'know, I should meet this guy, see if he's really my clone!" He grinned that charismatic smile that won everyone over.

 

To my shock, Satan smiled back. It was a rusty one, but still genuine and pleasant. It was a smile devoid of ruthlessness. "I can see what they were alluding to, yes." He stood up, strode around his desk, and shook Adam's hand. "I’m Samuel. I'm not your clone."

 

Adam's smile grew bigger, and that clinched it for me - they would be fine. So, feeling perfectly comfortable, I left the two alone in case any private revelations popped up. Besides, I now had a lot to think about.

 

Lower Tadfield's Judge was a centuries-old vampire who could control people's blood. Satan's day job was passing judgement on others. I'll be honest: I found this totally creepy. England no longer employed the death penalty, but that didn't mean he didn't have access to criminals who spent life in prison. Maybe that's how the coven received human blood without arousing suspicion?

 

I mechanically made it to my car and began to drive home, still pondering.

 

And then it hit me.

 

Adramelech, Asmodeus and Belial all know that I knew they were vampires. It was against vampire law for any human to know about them, but they had allowed me to live because Anthony and I were dating. That was no longer the case.

 

I was a sitting duck.

 

I got home and went straight to the stove to make myself some tea - no, not tea, this was a time for cocoa. As I made the cocoa, I resolved to call Anthony but still debated on what I was going to say: "I'm not sorry I broke up with you because you manipulated me, but I don't want your family to kill me so please take me back"? "I'm craving my eye candy fix"? "I miss you"?

 

"Hi," said his voice on the phone, startling me because I hadn't realised I'd actually dialed anything yet.

 

"Hi," I replied, feeling awkward. "Can we talk?"

 

"Sure. Dinner? On me."

 

I nodded. When it occurred to me he couldn't see me, I amended, "Sure."

 

"Cool. I'll pick you up soon. Ciao." He hung up, and I knew better than to get started on anything else.

 

Proving me right, a minute later he squealed to a halt in my driveway and honked impatiently. I chuckled, leaving the house and locking the door before going to sit in the Bentley's passenger seat. "You ought to get seat belts put in here."

 

"Or maybe you could become a vampire, then you wouldn't have to worry about it."

 

I laughed, I admit it. "Only one of those things is utterly life-changing, my dear boy."

 

He grinned. "On the contrary."

 

I shook my head fondly. "Oh, you. By the way, I'm sorry I lost my temper the other day."

 

"Eh. I'd spent the day with your dad. Anything you could do pales in comparison. I had shell shock by the time you got mad." Even as I laughed again his smirk grew uncomfortable. "Besides, I deserved it. And uh, it's pretty cool you'd charge into a lair of vampires just to help me. Even Asmodeus was impressed, and that's not easy."

 

I blushed. I honestly hadn't looked at it like that. "Tell him I said thank you," I murmured. I had been badass, hadn't I? Go me.

 

"Anyway, my point is… uh… what was it… my point is…" He looked confused before shaking his head. "I don't know anymore. Dolphins. Let's go with that."

 

I decided to roll with it. Goodness knows I'd lost my train of thought often enough. "Aww. I've always wanted to see a dolphin in real life. They're cute, aren't they? And allegedly they feel rubbery to the touch."

 

"They do," he assured me, sparking my jealousy. "They're also total arseholes. I used to go hunting a lot, and it was fun in the ocean but if you go out far enough you can usually run into a pod of dolphins. So there I am, hunting for fish, and there they are, like 'hey, we can get all the fish you want before you, and you can't catch up, neener neener neener.' And then afterwards, after they ate my lunch, they would rub against me and squeak at me. I think they were apologising, so I couldn't get mad. How unfair is that?"

 

I wasn't sure what part of that was weirdest. "I really meant like in a marine park."

 

"Oh. Orcas are cooler."

 

"They're also dolphins."

 

"Huh? They're whales. Killer _whales._ "

 

"Dolphins are a subset of whales, but orcas fall in that subset. They're dolphins."

 

"Oh. Huh. Weird." Silence fell in the car before he broke it by laughing - a beautiful sound that brought a smile to my face. "Okay, seriously, how did we go from talking about our fight to talking about whales?"

 

I giggled. "You started it!"

 

"But I don't remember my original point!"

 

"We're cool now," I said, hoping it was true. He graced me with a nod, and I felt two weights lift off my shoulders - fear, and loneliness.

 

Although technically…

 

"Wait a minute," he said, "did we ever actually become a real couple?" Ah, he took the words right from my mouth.

 

"Not yet," I said, hoping it was true. He graced me with a nod, and this was no longer acceptable to me. "Say something!"

 

"Something."

 

"Grr… How are you older than me? That makes no-"

 

"You should be my girlfriend," he said, eyes on the road.

 

It was my turn to give him a nod.

 

* * *

 

I didn't feel well at all the next week, but I was in good spirits. Of course, spirits or not I still would have gone to school thanks to the test on _Romeo & Juliet_ we had that day.

 

Thankfully we'd never acted out the play, we'd just read it and discussed it. While I definitely would have preferred another Shakespeare tale, I could at least appreciate the fact that we were almost done with this horrible little story.

 

All right, perhaps I'm biased. In my naïve youth I'd hated this particular play because I, too, wanted my romantic Romeo who would fall in love with me at first sight and then die for me. Then I grew up and realised that that was not what the story was about, and my hatred of it only intensified. So maybe I'm unfair, but too bad.

 

After I turned in the test - the essay question was about the Queen Mab speech, one of the few redeeming qualities of this play, so it was easy for me - I had time to think. Goodness, I was staring to resent thinking time.

 

One of the lights in the classroom was flickering and it was making my head hurt. So I closed my eyes and tried to think of what schoolwork I still had to do: papers in maths and biology, essays in Citizenship, nothing in Communications or Latin, although tonight I was tutoring Adam. That wasn't terrible.

 

Ugh, speaking of terrible, I felt like I was going to vomit all over my desk. I pinched my left-hand palm with my right hand in the hopes of triggering a nausea pressure-point - my father knew them all but I wasn't half as knowledgeable.

 

Case in point, it didn't work and I ended up sprinting to vomit.

 

After that I'm not entirely sure what happened. I remember the vomit, but I don't recall ever making it home and yet somehow the next thing I remember is me being curled up in bed. I ached all over and was so _cold_ , but my stomach was the worst by far.

 

I managed to find my glasses and saw that it was the middle of the night. I considered going back to bed, but my stomach revolted at this idea and I ended up with bile in the trash can. I was fairly sure I had never been this sick before. Going back to bed wasn't an option, considering closing my eyes made the nausea intensify, so instead I dragged my sorry self downstairs to the couch to curl up and watch the telly.

 

I had to hyperventilate to keep the pain at bay, and I wished that we had a pet for me to cuddle. However, my uncle Michael had a phobia of cats and I had a phobia of dogs, which severely limited our ability to get cuddleable pets. But we didn't live with Michael anymore so maybe we could get a cat, or perhaps a bunny…

 

I whined when a felt something freezing on my forehead. "This is Pestilence's work," said someone, "I swear I will kick his arse for this. Don't worry, baby, you'll be fine, I'll make sure of it." Oh, it must be Anthony. For once I wasn't terribly offended that he broke into my house if it meant I wasn't alone. And I thought it was cute that he would call me "baby."

 

I woke up and there was a weight on my lap. It was a large and fluffy bunny, white with lop ears. "You were rambling about bunnies," said Anthony, who was sitting next to me on the couch.

 

"I was?" I rubbed the floppy ears. What a cute little lady she was!

 

"Yep. You said you would name her Bunny Gaga and make her sing 'Bunn This Way.'"

 

"Huh." I yawned. "That would be… interesting…"

 

When I woke up again, there wasn't a bunny on my lap and I was a little disappointed. There was, however, cool washcloths on my forehead and neck. "Zizi darling?" asked my father, looking worried, "Are you awake?"

 

I nodded. I felt significantly better than I had this morning, but still not great. "I think so."

 

He chuckled a little as he put down a pot of tea. "You've been rambling all day, it's been hard to figure out when you're awake or hallucinating."

 

"I hallucinated?"

 

"A lot." He handed me a cuppa and I started to sip. Since tea would never betray me, it went right down without a problem.

 

"What was wrong with me?"

 

He didn't look comfortable. "The flu," he said, and it was easy for me to tell he was lying. "Just a very bad case of the flu. You came home on Tuesday and today is Thursday. I'd like you to stay home from school tomorrow too, if that's all right."

 

So I would have missed most of Tuesday, all of Wednesday and Thursday, and then all of Friday. For some reason I couldn't complain. "I like that idea." Besides, I needed to talk to Anthony. A mysterious severe illness that my father would lie about? It probably _was_ Pestilence, somehow (even if that didn't mean that the almost-car-accident from earlier in the year had been Pollution's fault). So why wasn't I dead, then? And how did they find out about me?

 

I had to hold on to those thoughts as my father spent all Thursday with me, doting and making sure I didn't relapse. He even stayed up with me all night watching infomercials, which was excellent because there was a chance I may have purchased things and it was good to have a tempering influence.

 

Anthony came on Friday after I'd assured him my father was gone. "You think it was Pestilence?" he asked, putting down a tea tin he'd brought with him. How adorable! "What gave you that idea?"

 

"My father has no clue what was wrong with me," I replied, perfectly comfortable so long as I was sitting up.

 

"You were really sick," Anthony agreed, sitting down. "You rambled a lot, too. But really, what makes you think it's Pestilence? He's not responsible for every case of the flu."

 

I thought back to what little dialogue I could recall. "Didn't you say it was him?"

 

I couldn't see through his sunglasses and yet I could tell he had just blinked in surprise. "No."

 

Oh. Now I felt silly. I factored this in. "I suppose I hallucinated that as well, then."

 

"Most likely. Although maybe he wanted you to know it was him. Not that I can figure out why he would…"

 

I considered this too. If it was him, why would he tell me, and really how would I still be alive? The more I considered this, the sillier it seemed. "I'll stick with hallucinations," I admitted. "It makes the most sense." In fact, a lot of things in my life made more sense if they were actually hallucinations or delusions. Sigh.   "Oh, and what about the bunny?"

 

"That was definitely a hallucination."

 

"Oh. Darn."

 

"So anyway, you're clearly lucid now and you don't look like you have the Plague anymore. You wanna try eating?"

 

I hummed to myself as I took stock over my body's current status. I wasn't hungry, but it had been days since I'd eaten. "I can try some soup." I moved to get up but he fluidly got to his feet, sauntering into the kitchen. I have to admit I was impressed - he was being helpful!

 

"Oh," came his voice from the kitchen, "your dad left like 12 containers of homemade soup here."

 

I laughed, happy.

 

* * *

 

Between my father and my boyfriend I did not leave my couch cocoon for the entire weekend. I felt badly because that meant I had to cancel game night (and we were almost done with the game!) but I also didn't want to infect anyone.

 

On Tuesday during Latin tutoring, I was relieved to see Adam present and unharmed - after all, he had spent time with Satan, and while he obviously hadn't died it was still nice to see him and be able to question him privately. However, before I could ask, he'd already placed a hand on my forehead. "Wow, I heard you were really sick! Are you feeling better? Do you want some of my water?"

 

Aw, how sweet. "No thank you, I still have most of my tea." I pulled out my enormous thermos filled with ginger tea. "How are you? How is your home life?"

 

He smiled a little. "Well, I told them how I talked to Sam-" it took me a moment to register that as Satan "-and he told me he'd never even heard of my mum and he's not even like 30." Well, Satan wasn't above lying to his mini-me, it seemed. "When I told this to my parents, Dad felt kinda better so I think they'll be fine, although Mum is still prickly that he accused her in the first place."

 

"I'm sure she is."

 

"And Sam's pretty cool. I think we're related but if we are he didn't say and I didn't quite have the heart to ask specifics, you know?"

 

I nodded. "So you're still sure you're adopted, but you're not sure if Sam has anything to do with it."

 

"Exactly." He sighed. "So I'm kind of back to where I was before, but that's okay. Anyway…" He paused and took a deep breath. "Hey. I need your help for somethin' else. Strictest security and confidence sort of thing. I can trust you, right?"

 

Well, it couldn't be any worse than the vampire masquerade, so I agreed. "Of course."

 

Adam was resolutely staring at the floor. "So I have a crush on… someone… and she's really hard to approach about this kind of thing…"

 

Half of me was disappointed he wasn't talking about me - absurd since I had Anthony, but honest. The other half of me gleefully pondered who Golden Boy Adam Young was smitten with, only for me to realize that the only people I knew at school were Adam himself, Pepper, Brian, Wensleydale, Anthony, and the teachers. Oh, that was just _sad_. "So what do you want me to do?"

 

"If you could do the girl thing and ask her about me, then just let me know if I stand a chance of going to the formal with her…" I wanted to pinch those blushing cheeks of his, but I controlled myself. "Anyway, I'd owe you big time."

 

Factoring in tutoring, counselling and escorting him to a man named after the Devil, poor Adam was already considerably in debt to me. Regardless, I agreed. "I'll do my best to be discrete. Is it Pepper?" I hoped it was Pepper, because otherwise I would be at a loss.

 

He nodded. "We've been friends forever so it's kind of weird and I don't want to lose that, you know?"

 

I could figure what that was like, not that I'd ever had the experience. Goodness, that was even sadder. "Of course. You know, she and I haven't done anything for awhile, so I'll talk to her about getting together fairly soon and when we do I'll ask her about you, or if she has any formal plans."

 

"Thanks!" He gave me a hug.

 

Well, at least I had friends _now_.

 

* * *

 

"Ugh," I said as Anthony and I watched a movie on his couch that night, "you must be joking. Lando actually believes that Darth Vader won't betray him?"

 

"Eh, he kinda knows," Anthony replied, his smirk still smug - he'd been pleased with himself for getting me to watch this movie with him, which was awfully silly of him. "It's one of those things where if someone is going to get choked to death, better someone else than him."

 

I considered that for a minute. Technically speaking, neither Han nor Leia were the heroes of this movie, which meant they were both fair game to be killed. "Oh my. But I thought Vader didn't care about the others. Isn't he only holding them to draw Luke there?"

 

"Right, but does that mean he can't kill them? Luke won't know they're dead until he arrives." Anthony was grinning, and it was making me nervous. Was he teasing me or genuinely amused at the idea of death? As much as I dislike it when he pokes me, I sincerely hoped it was the former.

 

"Of course he would know! The power of Space Taoism would tell him." "For the last time, it's not Taoism. It's the Force."

 

"I didn't say Taoism. I said _Space_ Taoism."

 

"Ugh. Way to ruin the entire mystique of the series, angel."

 

There was silence. The movie ran in the background, but we weren't paying attention.

 

I almost squealed. "What did you call me?"

 

"Nothing!" He moved to stand up, and I sat on his lap to keep him there.

 

"You did! You called me 'angel!' You gave me a pet name!" "You're clearly hallucinating!"

 

"That's so sweet and so darn cute!"

 

"Shut-"

 

I kissed him, impulsively.

 

It was not what I was expecting. After all, Anthony wasn't human, so admittedly it would be different. His lips were cold and hard, and it was a lot like what I imagine kissing marble would feel like. He was shocked, too, so the response left something to be desired.

 

I backed off a little, feeling silly. "Er," was all I managed to say.

 

He slid his fingers into my hair and pulled me back into the kiss.

 

Not that I had anything to compare it to at the time, regardless I still felt it was an excellent snogging session - not a lot, or really any, tongue involvement (how insanitary!), but still delightful. The problem came when the television changed from _The Empire Strikes Back_ to the news, startling both of us to the point where we leapt apart like disturbed housecats.

 

Belial had taken the remote and gotten comfortable in the easy chair next to the couch, and my embarrassment receded; this was the one who liked to make people horny so that he could have sex. Clearly a little kissing wouldn't bother him too much. And I was right, considering he said, "I debated putting on some porn but I don't think you crazy kids needed it."

 

I did blush, though. "How crude, and what a complete jump," I muttered, fixing my skirt.

 

Anthony leant over to hit him on the arm companionably. "As if _you_ need porn," he retorted gamely.

 

Belial shrugged, channel surfing.

 

I took the moment to be bold. "So I know that Satan is the town judge, and that Hastur and Ligur are both teachers and now Anthony is a student. What about you? What's your normal role?"

 

"Therapist," he replied, not looking away.

 

That filled me with almost as much disgust as Satan being a judge did. A therapist? Honestly! Normal people would go to him with their problems and he would probably just put them in an emotional trance of some kind!

 

Hmm, was having a vampire alter one's emotions better or worse than psychopharmacological interventions? I suppose that would depend on how his powers worked. If he was altering brain chemistry over a period of time, then no, but if it was more… subtle, I suppose… "How do your powers work?"

 

"Dunno," he said. And that was it.

 

I digested this. "You don't know?"

 

"Nope."

 

I looked at Anthony to see if he could add anything, and he merely shrugged. I felt frustrated. "How can you not know how your own powers work? You've had over a hundred years to figure it out."

 

"I'm closer to five hundred, but whatever. Don't you have homework or something?"

 

"Yes!" Anthony proclaimed, dragging me to my feet and pointedly walking away, toward the front door. "And I will drive you home!"

 

"What?" I asked, confused. This was happening awfully fast - had something spooked him?

 

When he got outside and to the Bentley, he admitted, "He's just too lazy to be tactful, but still, you ask way too many questions and the last thing we need is for him to get ticked off and eat you."

 

"But he's probably too lazy to eat me, if he's too lazy to answer questions," I pointed out.

 

He pushed me into the passenger seat. "Do you really want to risk it? You really need to internalise the whole 'most of my family can kill you easily' thing."

 

I sighed. "I reiterate, this would be a lot more convenient if your family was of the 'friendly neighbourhood vampire' variety."

 

"Or if you would just join our coven," he said bluntly.

 

Well, last time we'd touched on this conversation it had been rather light, but his tone was decidedly not. "I couldn't," I admitted. "I've thought of it before, trust me, but if I were one of you then I would have to leave my father lest he be put in danger, and I just… I just couldn't do it." It made me sad thinking about it.

 

He made a noncommittal noise. "Well, you think about it some more then. Not like we're in a hurry. Who knows, something might change."

 

When he said that, I got chills down my spine. There was a measure of certainty to his voice, as if he had said _trust me, you'll be a vampire before you know it, whether you like it or not._  "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, nervous.

 

He shook his head. "Nothing, nothing."

 

It was an odd conflict of emotion I felt. On the one hand, I was rather fond of Anthony and I did trust him to not hurt me or my father. On the other hand, could I trust his _family?_

 

I took a deep breath, let it in and out. I was reading too much into everything. My father and I were completely safe.

 

I hoped.


	9. Chapter 9

"Hey," said a scowling Pepper, giving me a minor heart attack. It was after maths, which was a high-stress situation for me anyhow, but now I had to worry that Pepper was going to hurt me. "We need to get things." She furtively glanced around before leaning in and whispering, "Accessories for formal."

 

Oh Lord. Admittedly I was still in denial about going to formal, but at least I had an in to ask Pepper about Adam now. "True. When do you want to go?"

 

"Sunday night," she said, still frowning.

 

"Sounds acceptable. What's wrong?"

 

She looked surprised, as if just finding out she'd been glaring at me. "Oh. Nothing's wrong."

 

"Of course," I said, not believing her for a second. We'd talk more on Sunday, regardless. I wasn't looking forward to it, because if nothing else, I had a sinking suspicion she was just mad that I spent so much time with Adam. It's certainly not my fault that I know rudimentary Latin…

 

Ah well. My schedule for the next couple of days seemed clear and easy: school, homework, gaming on Saturday (we were going to finally win!), and shopping on Sunday.

 

Of course things couldn't end up working out _that_ nicely. My organised plan completely fell apart beginning that night.

 

My father had been stuck at work, so it was me alone. The doorbell rang repeatedly and there was quick, loud knocking at the door. Realising that the only things dangerous to me couldn't come in unless I invited them, I opened the door; Anthony was standing there, looking as harried as I'd ever seen him. He wasn't even wearing his shades. He came in quickly, locking the door behind him. "What's wrong?" I asked, worried. He was usually far more composed.

 

"They're coming for me," he said, glancing around warily. "I need your help."

 

I felt a rush of warmness. He was trusting me to help him! Aww. I was wary of whatever was chasing him, but I figured he wouldn't have asked for my help if he thought I was going to die too. "Of course, dear, what do you need? And who's coming?"

 

He prowled around my home, looking like a caged and terrified animal. "Oldest trick in the book," he muttered, "that'll get 'em. They're pretty stupid. Hastur and Ligur. Decided to take me out, but I could tell that's what they wanted so I got the hell out of there." He looked at me. "Apparently they found out you blamed them for finding out about vampires. They decided that means I get to die because you almost got them killed. Thanks a lot."

 

I winced. I honestly hadn't seen this coming, and in my defence, I'd used them as scapegoats months ago. One would think that a vampire who can read minds would have figured this out beforehand, but who am I to judge? "What can I do? Wait, they can't come in here, right? My father and I haven't given them permission."

 

He was snapping his fingers as he paced. He nodded. "True, but that means I'm stuck in here until they burn your house down or something." He brightened. "I've got it! Okay, here's what we'll do…"

 

We prepared together, me doing most of the work while he directed me or boosted me if necessary. I was shaking, nervous, but he seemed confident so I let it wash over me. This would be fine. We knew what we were doing. Besides, if anyone was going to die here, it was going to be Anthony, not me. If something failed I could kick them out.

 

It took about five minutes to get fully prepared, and Anthony sat at the kitchen table, resting his feet on it. After making sure he didn't have any mud on his shoes, I got into place. The door was left ajar.

 

"Oh Craaawleeeey…"

 

I could hear my teachers outside, prowling around the house. I looked at Anthony, and he rolled his eyes. "Stupid old nickname," he said. "Don't even ask."

 

I nodded and walked to the door, looking out in the night. "Hullo?" I asked, "Are you actually looking for Crowley? Anthony Crowley? Come in, he's right here!"

 

As we'd planned, he let out an offended gasp. "Wait, _what?"_

 

The two pushed the door open all the way. There was a thunderstorm brewing outside that abruptly ceased when the bucket I'd set above the door fell on Ligur.

 

I imagine it would be like if someone dropped a vat of acid on a human: his skin began sizzling and he started screaming in agony. The water splash had hit Hastur as well, although not nearly as full-on. I looked at Anthony and even he looked revolted about what he was seeing.

 

"Can you put them out of their misery?" I asked.

 

Although it was hard to hear him over the screams, he replied, "Are you kidding? I'm not touching either of them!"

 

"Good point. Can I do anything?"

 

"Beat their weakened skulls in with one of your Bibles."

 

"Are _you_ kidding? I used a Bible as a blunt-force weapon _once_ and it got me stuck with _you!_ "

 

"You know, for all that you make fun of me for liking cars so much, you are disturbingly fond of your eighty million books. But anyway, they'll die eventually." Ligur was already dead and Hastur wasn't far behind him. Hastur was crawling to me but I kicked him away. I felt horribly guilty, but also rather relived. Two less evil beings in the world, and they had been trying to hurt _my_ boyfriend. Rejected, sirs. "And we don't even need to bury them, because…"

 

As if on cue, Ligur dissolved into dust and Hastur followed soon after.

 

"Time caught up with them?" I guessed even as I went to get a mop. The kitchen floor was now covered in holy water and vampire dust, and it was rather disgusting.

 

"Exactly. Glad I dodged that bullet. By the way, I'm not sure if it's wicked awesome or totally creepy that your dad has vats of holy water just lying around his house." I looked at Anthony, and he amended, "Since they saved my life, it's awesome. But what if your dad gets mad at _me?_ "

 

"Well, he'd have to know you're a vampire before he decided to take you out with holy water," I reasoned as I cleaned up. "So I think for now you're safe. But you'd better be nice to me."

 

He rolled his eyes. "As if I'm not nice to you anyway."

 

"Half the time you are," I agreed.

 

* * *

 

 

I delivered the final blow - a simple spell, Magic Missile - against our heavily-armoured foe. With a yell of pure rage and pain, the man who had stalked me and my friends across the coast fell forward before dissolving into dust.

 

We had won.

 

"Wow," I said, completely in awe at what we had pulled off. Brian and Wensleydale were grinning at me. "Just… wow. I can't believe it's over!"

 

Brian waved a CD at me. "It's not! There's still two more games to go!"

 

I felt a jolt of excitement. "Really? Two more?"

 

"The second one is better than the first," Wensleydale added. "The third is pretty fun too, but it's not as long, so the second is the best." Brian nodded his agreement. "But we can't start now, it's too late."

 

"Yeah, I should have been leaving fifteen minutes ago," I agreed, closing my laptop and putting it away. "I can't wait until next week though! Can I get some spoilers? Who's the villain? Is it someone from this game?"

 

Brian shook his head. "Nope."

 

"He's voiced by David Warner," Wensleydale chimed in. "You know, the-"

 

I squealed. "The Shakespearean actor? They got a Shakespearean actor to voice the villain? Oh, oh my! I love David Warner! I love his voice, it's so, so dramatic!"

 

"It's really evil sounding, too," said Wensleydale. "True me, it's a perfect fit."

 

Now I really didn't want to go. _David Warner!_   One of the very first movies I had ever seen was the 1968 version of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ starring him as Lysander, and… oh, yes. "Fine, fine, okay, next week, but don't be surprised if I show up early!" We all exchanged high-fives for our dramatic victory over evil before Wensleydale and I left.

 

The night was light, too light actually. I double-checked my watch to make sure that I hadn't mistaken the time, but no, it was 9:00 p.m. and I was running late, not early. Oh well, probably something going on -

 

There was a fire. A building was on fire.

 

It was my house!

 

I screeched my car to a halt on the street before stumbling out and running towards the house, pulling out my cell phone. I had to call the fire department, see if my father was inside, and I had to - had to - my books! _MY BOOKS!_

 

I had barely managed to dial for emergency services when something hard connected with the back of my head and I lost consciousness.

 

* * *

 

 

I woke up bound in the back of a truck and with a splitting headache. I tried to remember what had happened to me, but it was all blurry - I had come home from Brian's house to find that my house was aflame, and I had pulled out my cell phone to call the fire department, but then… then there had been nothing.

 

I tried sitting up, but it was hard to coordinate. I must have had a concussion. "Hello?" I asked, and yes, my voice was slurred. Definitely a concussion.

 

"Please start to beg for mercy. I love it when that happens."

The voice sounded familiar… ish. Not terribly so. It was the kind of voice that was distinctive, that I knew I'd heard before, but there was just no placing it. "No thank you. I'd rather just know what's going on, and who you are."

 

"Aww, I'm touched you care. We met once, you and I, while you were on a date with your rule-breaking boyfriend."

 

Hmm. Interesting. I hadn't gone on many dates with Anthony, and not many people had introduced themselves to me… But wait, there was one. I remembered now, sort of. "Oh, that one man, who was it, what was it… that one who had the redheaded girlfriend," I said, trying to reason it out. "I think I know. I don't remember your name though. I do remember you were here for business."

 

The driver sighed. "James."

 

His saying my name jogged my memory a bit more. "Right. The Ritz," I said, although the mere mention of food made me feel sick. I couldn't recall anything else, my head ached too much.

 

For his part, James sounded disappointed. "I barely hit you! Ugh, you humans are so weak."

 

Well, at least I wasn't giving him any villainous satisfaction. Silver linings, I suppose. And anyway, I was more focused on trying to remember what had happened beforehand. There had been… yes, gaming, and then I'd gotten home, and -

 

"You burnt my house down!" I yelled, feeling a second wind. "You'd better hope my father wasn't inside or else I-"

 

"He was," said James, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. "But don't worry, he's alive, for now. He's sitting right next to me, bound and gagged and covered in his own blood. If you annoy me too much, I'll eat him. He smells delicious."

 

I felt relief and horror. If James was telling the truth, my father was alive and in desperate need of medical attention. If he was lying, then I had no idea if he was alive or not. From my vantage point I couldn't see into the front of the vehicle.

 

But wait, why would he need my cooperation? I was his hostage.

 

Interesting. He needed me alive and working with him.

 

So now I had two goals. First, figure out if he was lying about my father or not. Second, figure out what he needed from me so that I could thwart his plans spectacularly.

 

I decided my first task was my father's safety, seeing as my cooperation hinged on that. To that end, I spun myself around to get my head behind the passenger seat; if James noticed, he didn't care. That's a pity, for him, because I saw a lock of red hair between the seat and the door.

 

Hair too dark to be my father's. Or, as the only other redhead I knew, Pepper's.

 

The person in the front seat was James' girlfriend.

 

I almost laughed, but instead I closed my eyes and forced myself to stay calm and inconspicuous. He needed me to cooperate badly enough that he'd fake a hostage situation, which meant that I had more power here than he wanted to admit, and I certainly didn't want him figuring out I knew that.

 

"Where are we going?" I asked, not only trying to get a better idea of his plans, but also genuinely curious. Of course, my voice likely sounded frightened or at least slurred due to my head wound, so at least I wouldn't be giving anything away.

 

"We're on a road trip to Italy," he sneered in reply. He supplied no other information, but he didn't need to.

 

James was, for whatever reason, taking me to the Volturi, likely because I'm human and associating with vampires. He most likely intended for me to implicate myself to save my father's life, because otherwise this was a word-versus-word situation and if James was wrong, then _he_ was in violation of the rules for kidnapping me in the first place.

 

Of course, even if I could convince the Volturi I had no idea what was going on, they'd likely eat me anyway, but at least they'd kill James first. Sadly, that was about the best I could hope for.

 

Unless I could escape between now and then…

 

That was likely a stupid idea. Even if I managed to escape a moving vehicle with a concussion, there were two vampires in the front seat who could easily catch me again. No, sadly, I had two options: wait until someone rescued me, or be able to bluff my way out of the situation.

 

But for now, there were a few things I knew. James had been hired by the Volturi to fetch me, and he was also very cocky. This meant that as long as I kept the topic about him and his superiority, he would likely tell me everything I wanted to know. "So why you?" I asked. "Why did the Volturi hire you?"

 

He chuckled, and his voice sounded very excited. "My powers are those of the hunt. Once I have a target, I can and will find them wherever they hide, no matter what they do. Of course I prefer to eat them at the end, but it makes me an excellent bounty hunter."

 

Hmm, interesting powers. That really did clinch it, though, that escape wasn't an option: even if I managed to flee, he could find me again. I had to admit too that with such a specific power set, it really made bounty hunting or assassinations the only jobs he would be good at. I was just lucky I wasn't worth much dead. "I see that," I replied, trying to boost his ego a bit. "I had no idea I was the business you were after, and yet here I am. So, why do the Volturi want me? What's their endgame?"

 

He was bouncing in his seat now. "Extermination."

 

Interesting. Very interesting. The level of excitement that he had about it made me think that maybe "extermination" had been their plan for awhile, and I was just their lucky break. That made it even less likely I was going to survive whatever came up.

 

There was a loud squealing noise and the car stopped. I rolled and slammed my head into the back of the passenger seat, and I lost consciousness.

 

* * *

 

 

When I woke up again, the first thing I did was vomit.

 

"That's what happens when you ignore me," said James, who sounded petulant. "We're here."

 

Ah, crap. I logically knew that escape wasn't really an option, but I had at least intended on being awake to take advantage of any opportunities. No such luck.

 

He got out of the truck and came around the back, lifting me out and covering my head with a cloth bag. I tried my best to listen to everything going on, just in case, but frankly, I was terrified. On the ride down, I had calmly accepted that I wouldn't mind dying if James was taken out with me, but that was cold comfort now.

 

As if he wasn't already a huge arse, he made me walk the through what I could only tell was a cold and dark area with plenty of twists. Even if I escaped _now_ I couldn't make it out. I was well and truly in trouble.

 

The hood was taken off me and I got a good look at the Volturi's Council Chamber. It was large and ornate, but interestingly enough it only had 5 chairs. I use the term chairs but it could just as easily be thrones, and they were all intricately carved to represent the person sitting on them.

 

War was yet another redhead, yet far foxier than the ones I'd met. She looked bored and she reminded me of a tiger - content for now, but plenty dangerous. She was curled up on her throne, licking blood off her fingers. Unsanitary. Her throne looked completely uncomfortable, with images of swords hewn into smooth red marble. If I remembered right - or, frankly, if Anthony had _been_ right - her powers were to make someone feel a furious, blind rage, reducing them to being a feral dog.

 

Next to her was an emaciated man dressed in all black, whom I could assume was Famine by process of elimination. His legs were crossed and he was regarding me curiously. His black-marble throne was mostly plain, with weighing scales etched into the head. If Anthony had been correct, he had the power to cause me to waste away to nothing.

 

On his other side was a little boy who was playing with a white yo-yo. Everything about him was white - his clothes, his hair, his eyes, his skin - and he blended in well with his white marble throne. If I had to imagine a Pollution he is not what that would have been, but that's hardly his fault. It was hard to focus on anything about him, so my eyes slid to the next one.

 

Next to him was an old, old man wearing a green lab coat, sitting on a throne made of marble (of course) in the sickliest looking green I'd ever seen. He himself looked to be terminally ill - I could hear him wheezing - and I felt an urge to get nowhere near him ever. I also didn't want to anger him, considering he could make me ill.

 

The Fifth and final vampire was sitting upon a pale-coloured marble throne, although he was wearing black as well - a huge black cowled cloak. Looking at him made me feel absolutely and utterly _terrified_ , so I couldn't look at him either. As such it was almost a relief when one of the others was the first to speak.

 

"Welcome back, James," said Famine, his voice reedy and not at all intimidating. "What did you discover?"

 

"This is the Britain coven's pet human," James began, confident as he poked my back to move me forward. "She-"

 

This was my chance. None of these people could read minds, so it was all up to my acting ability. Thankfully, the fact that I was terrified was not an act. "I'm whose what?" I asked, allowing my fear into my voice, "I don't know what's going on! I was coming home from school and this man attacked me! Then he threatened my family if I didn't listen to him!"

 

James looked a cross between scared and royally pissed off. "Don't listen to her! She met one of the coven at school-"

 

"A witch at school?" I interrupted, "Who is it? I thought the rumours about Mrs Nutter were just talk!"

 

"Vampires, you stupid - quit playing dumb!"

 

Checkmate, my dear James. "Vampires? Why would vampires go to high school?"

 

He was flummoxed. Frankly, I don't blame him.

 

War started giggling, her feet kicking in amusement. "Oh, oh! Did you overstep yourself? I hope so. I _hate_ you."

 

Victoria was behind me, although I didn't know it until she spoke up. "No, the girl is lying. She knows exactly what's going on."

 

My nerves were already shot, and I honestly hadn't known she was there, so it wasn't too hard of a stretch for me to jump and continue playing the terrified prey. "Ah! Who are you! Where did you come from!" I faced the Volturi and put on my best pleading expression. "This has to be a dream! Please just let me go home! I just want to wake up from this nightmare!"

 

Pestilence held up his arm, bidding everyone to wait for him to speak. His voice was barely intelligible. "Proof?"

 

The spotlight was on James now, and he clearly did not want it there. Gone was the cocky slag who'd dragged me here. He stammered out a negative. "Nothing physical, I mean, but I'm telling you, they know her! I saw her talking to four of them!" Oh, creepy. James walloped Anthony in the competition of which one was the better stalker.

 

Famine shook his head solemnly. "We told you to be thorough. We can't wage war over incidentals. We need to have the proof on our side."

 

"I can go back! I can find something - a gift, or-"

 

"You burnt my house down!" I countered.

 

All five of the "Horsemen" sat up a little straighter at that.

 

"You _what?_ " demanded Pestilence. "Are you _mad?”_

 

"I needed to make sure she didn't go inside, where I couldn't get her," James protested. To my shock, Victoria fled and no one made a move to stop her. I couldn't blame her at all, considering she'd only done what I was hoping I could do. "And I-"

 

YOUR ORDERS WERE SIMPLE.

 

I find it almost impossible to describe Death's voice. It was booming, and yet not loud. It pierced through everything, almost as if I wasn't hearing it with my ears. There was no arguing with that voice.

 

YOU WERE TO GATHER EVIDENCE OF THE BRITAIN COVEN'S VIOLATION OF THE ANCIENT LAWS. INSTEAD, YOU COMMITTED CRIMES ON ANOTHER COVEN'S TERRITORY AND KIDNAPPED A HUMAN GIRL WITHOUT ANY PROOF OF HER INVOLVEMENT.

 

"There was no proof - no gifts, nothing but physical involvement!" James whispered, voice weak. _I am never going to complain about how terrible of a boyfriend Anthony is again_ , I thought to myself. If he'd given me more than flowers, I would be dead. "Please, you have to believe me, she knows, they violated the rules…"

 

"Can I kill him?" asked War brightly, orange eyes shining. Pollution had gone back to playing with his yo-yo.

 

Death nodded once, and War leapt up from her throne, reaching behind it and pulling out a massive broadsword. "Yay!"

 

James crouched down, letting go of me, and I quickly moved away from him. He valiantly defended himself, but the fight was over very quickly in War's favour. I won't disturb you with the details, but his death made Hastur and Ligur's look positively clean.

 

Now there was just me.

 

WHAT A WASTE OF TIME AND ENERGY, said Death, standing up. A huge scythe materialised in his hand - his _skeletal_ hand - and he started walking towards me.

 

I'm not ashamed to admit I began screaming.


	10. Chapter 10

I woke up in a one-bed hotel room. My father was sleeping on the couch. My head was throbbing, but I was definitely alive. Surely the afterlife wouldn't be so… normal?

 

I wasn't sure what to think. How had I gotten here? Why was I still alive? Had it all been a dream?

 

"Zizi?" my father asked groggily, sitting up. Overcome with happiness, I raced from the bed to the couch to give him a big hug, ignoring the pain I was in. "Oh, my poor dear girl, you had quite the nightmare, didn't you? I'm so sorry, poppet. I tried waking you, but you were out cold."

 

I cuddled up to him. He is probably the single most cuddly creature on the planet. "I guess so. What happened to me? Did the house burn down or did I dream that?"

 

He sounded quite sad as he nuzzled the side of my face. I thought his voice sounded rather damp, but convinced myself I was imagining things. I'd never seen him cry, so why would he start now? "No, you remember correctly. You got home after your evening with your friends, and you went inside the house, you ridiculous thing. When the fire-fighters found you, you'd passed out from smoke inhalation and had a large piece of the roof land on your head. That's why you must feel so sore, and you poor thing, you're all bruised up. I think Lower Tadfield must have cursed you, dear heart."

 

Huh. I wasn't sure whether or not to believe him at the time, considering if my recollection was correct, then I had no business not being dead. But I certainly didn't recall going into the house, and I wasn't burnt at all. I didn't know what to think, so I just curled up. "I agree. This place is definitely cursed."

 

* * *

 

When I went back to school, the whole building seemed to know what had happened and I was being questioned regularly about my misadventures. Did I think I was crazy or stupid for running into a burning building (neither, considering I didn't remember doing it)? What was it like living out of a hotel room (not terribly comfortable)? Did I need any extra clothes (no, thanks to insurance and my father's emergency bank account)? Was I feeling ridiculous for having had numerous huge injuries inflicted on me twice (yes, vehemently so)?

 

The only person who wasn't at all interested in my story was Anthony, because he wasn't in school. In fact, he missed the entire week.

 

Now wondering what was going on even more so, after school on Friday I drove out to the vampire's mansion, slightly anxious. My main worry was the idea that perhaps the Volturi had located some measure of proof and attacked. What if Anthony was dead? The closer I got to the mansion, the more convinced I was that I would encounter some sort of horrific scene of the massacred coven, and at one time I almost became too anxious to keep going. Certainly Satan being gone wouldn't be an awful fate - well, except for Adam - and I'd never met Beelzebub so I wouldn't mourn him, but Adramelech was kind and Belial was Anthony's father and who knew about Asmodeus, and what would I do if Anthony was dead because of me?

 

My thoughts raced until I drove up to the pristine scene of the coven's home, perfectly unscathed. That was a slight relief, but it was enough of one to prompt me out of my car and to ring their doorbell.

 

Anthony answered, and his face - well, given those sunglasses, what I could _see_ of his face - looked unimpressed. "Yeah?"

 

I scowled at that. What a rude and peculiar greeting! "Really? I get my house burnt down, kidnapped, and nearly killed, and all you can say is 'yeah?' Why have you been avoiding me?"

 

As I talked, his eyebrows slowly rose until they reached his hairline. "You remember?"

 

That threw me off my tirade. "I take it I'm not supposed to?"

 

His answer was a surprising display of affection - a full and strong hug. Sunlight was filtering through the trees and the clouds, turning his skin into diamonds as beams passed. "That's Death's power. He can wipe someone's memories."

 

Oh, so it was a _metaphorical_ death. I supposed that made sense, considering all vampires were killing machines so being able to kill didn't seem too out of the ordinary. "Well, I don't think it worked, although I have no idea how I got home."

 

"For all their power, they're not into open warfare - well, except for War obviously. Anyway, they're old and very cautious, so I wouldn't be surprised if they decided to not risk killing you in case word got out. They have no problem kidnapping tourists and bleeding them dry, declaring them victims of slave trades, but to actually take someone from another coven's territory… Even if we didn't know you - even though Satan doesn't give a rat's arse about you, he'd still be pretty ticked."

 

I considered that even as I started blushing, since the hug was still ongoing. "But the entire point was to prove that you did know me."

 

He was silent for a few seconds. "Oh, I get it. They wanted to prove that someone spilled the beans to a human."

 

"Right, to provoke a fight."

 

"There's a difference between violating our territorial rights and punishing our transgressions."

 

I, for one, was equal parts relieved and disappointed. First, it was obvious he'd been worried, which was flattering, and if he had actually shown up in my honour it would have proven beyond a doubt we had a liaison. That being said, I had assumed he would have made some attempt at a rescue. I suppose he was too lazy. Or, possibly, just very out of the loop. Regardless, I suppose it worked out for the best.

 

Even if a lot of questions were left unanswered, which simply _bothered me_.

 

"Well, you may want to run now," he advised, still not letting me go. "Adramelech is home, and prom is coming up. Believe it or not, I have about as much desire to go as you do, and if he catches you, it's almost a guarantee."

 

I blushed at the idea. For some reason, not only had I barely been accepting that I was going to have to go to prom, but it definitely hadn't occurred to me that Anthony would be my date. Although, considering he still wasn't letting me go… Well, the whole thing was awfully flattering. Unless, of course, he decided to make himself my personal bodyguard, in which case I was going to be more irked than flattered. Oh well, cross that bridge when I come to it and all that.

 

I sighed. "I may as well accept that fate. After being nearly killed, I find I don't have the energy to fight going to a stupid dance. Although... do you mind if I think out loud?"

 

"Nope."

 

"Frankly I find it very hard to believe that they would order my kidnapping, wipe my memory, and then return me safe and sound. There has to be something more to it. Also, what were you doing while I was being carted across the continent? I'd been kidnapped to implicate _you,_ you know."

 

"Well..." He looked terribly uncomfortable and finally let me go, running his fingers through his hair. "Mysteries abound. You may never know the truth. It's an exciting time."

 

"What?"

 

"I wanted to save you but they wouldn't let me!" exclaimed Adramelech, having apparently appeared out of nowhere. "It would have been incredibly dramatic! But you, dear girl, I have a feeling you're a trouble magnet and considering you're still wearing polyester, I feel like my work with you will never be done."

 

"All my clothes are gone," I pointed out. For the second time this year, I was kidnapped.

 

* * *

 

 _Epilogue_ :

 

So yes, I went to prom. But you don't care about that, do you? It was lovely and adorably awkward. The dress fit nicely, although considerable makeup was needed to make me look presentable. Adam and Pepper went as dates, which I had to admit I was jealous about but also proud of Adam for not needing my help to ask her; or, now that I think about it, I'm sure she asked him.

 

Despite the situation with the vampires raising more questions than it answered, my father and I had to move back to London with my uncles due to the fact that we no longer had a house. Neither of us were particularly interested in moving back to Lower Tadfield, thankfully, although part of me felt like leaving without getting my questions answered was simply a cop-out.

 

I should have known better than to assume that bad luck and the paranormal wouldn't follow me.


End file.
